Tears of Betrayal
by Julianna Calavicci
Summary: A woman named Angela Bea Cotton has made an astonishing accusation Al Calavicci is a murderer. But Al insists upon his innocence. Can Sam find out the truth before two lives are lost before their time?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Alamogordo, New Mexico

August 29, 1999

_Is this tall enough?_ she wondered as she stood on the ledge, looking down from the top of a 20-story building. _Is this high enough for him to understand my message? She exhaled, taking a few steps away from the ledge. I guess it will have to be. It must be. He must understand what he did to me. He has to pay somehow._ She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. And this is that somehow.

With firm determination in her eyes, she started running towards the ledge. She bounced off the ledge and into the air, a ribbon-like tail attached to her midframe. She spread her arms as if she could fly, her eyes closed so that she wouldn't see the ground rushing toward her at an incredible speed. She didn't open them until she felt the bounce, certain that the bungie cord she had strapped around her chest was preventing her from falling further than ten floors.

She looked down, with tired and anguished eyes, at the crowd that had gathered. _They're wondering what the hell I'm doing. Some of them are probably expecting me to start climbing up my cord._ She tried to distinguish between the faces in the crowd. Yet, even though she couldn't see any of the faces below her, she knew he wasn't there. _Where is he?_ she demanded silently. _He has to be here. He must be here in person._ His presence was the only way, she felt, she would find peace - and revenge.

"I guess I'll just have to wait," she told herself, crossing her arms over her plain navy T-shirt. She closed her eyes and let the wind blow her brown ponytail, let the sun shine on her deeply-tanned skin, let her jean-covered legs hang limply against the building's wall.

It wasn't long before she heard the sirens coming closer and closer until they were directly below her. She opened her eyes and looked down to see that the crowd had grown considerably and was now being urged to step clear of the building. Police officers, both uniformed and plain-clothed, were entering the building through the front door below her.

_Let them come_, she thought grimly. _They won't stop me from letting justice be served._

She waited again, waited for the assistance she did not want but knew was necessary to have her revenge. It was not long before that assistance came.

A window, about five feet to her right, opened and a woman stuck her head out, looking at her with concern.

"Ma'am, my name is Lieutenant Susan Harris." The Lieutenant gave her a gentle smile. "You have nothing to worry about. We'll get you out of this as soon as possible."

But she shook her head firmly at the Lieutenant's assurances, taking a sharp pair of scissors from the right pocket of her jeans.

"You make any move to pull me in or up and I'll cut the cord," she warned the Lieutenant. "I swear I will."

Lieutenant Harris looked at the woman with shock before she quickly pulled her head back in the building. "Hold it, guys!" she said as calmly as she could to the others in the room. "We've got a suicide attempt on our hands. She's threatened to cut her bungie cord if we try to bring her up or pull her in." With a calming breath, she relied on her fellow officers to take the appropriate actions while she put her head out the window again.

The woman raised the scissors above her head and around the cord, ready to snip the cord in half at a moment's notice.

Harris put out a reassuring hand. "I'm not going to try to pull you in. I promise. I just want to talk to you. Okay?"

The woman looked at her with suspicion but didn't move an inch.

Harris took a breath. "What's your name?"

The woman didn't answer right away. "It's Angela," she told her. "Angela Bea Cotton."

"Why are you doing this, Angela? What do you want?"

"Justice," Angela told her bluntly. "I want justice. I want him here, right here. I swear, if anyone makes a move on me before I see him, I'll cut the rope."

Harris looked at her carefully. "Who is it you want to see?"

Angela hesitated a moment before speaking.

"Albert Calavicci," she finally said. "I want to see Albert Calavicci."

Harris nodded before looking in the building and then back at Angela. The latter woman seemed nervous. "Okay, Angela. I'll see what we can do." She stepped away from the window with a quiet exhale, facing a man in a plain navy suit as she did so. "Captain," she greeted somberly but with respect.

The Captain, a middle-height middle-aged black man, looked at her with question. "What's the situation?"

Harris exhaled. "The woman's name is Angela Cotton, sir. She says she wants to see someone named Albert Calavicci and he'll cut herself down if we try to bring her in."

The Captain took a breath. "So, who is this Calavicci guy? Her boyfriend?"

Harris shook her head. "I don't know. I didn't push the subject. She seems a little antsy."

The Captain thought for a moment. "Okay, Lieutenant. We have a psychiatrist coming right now. Until he gets here, I need you to keep Angela calm while we track down this Calavicci guy."

Harris nodded, showing that she understood her instructions. "Will do, sir."

The Captain turned to another officer in the office they were occupying. "Peters, find this guy. Find out who he is, find out where he is, and get him over here ASAP."

"Yes, sir," Peters replied before leaving the room.

---

The person for whom Peters was searching sat at a plain wooden desk in a plainly decorated office, his eyes firmly focusing through a pair of purple-rimmed reading glasses. He sat back in his chair and exhaled, removing the glasses before rubbing the bridge of his nose with his right index finger. He lowered his hand and closed his eyes with fatigue. Sometimes being in charge was a serious pain in the ass, in the opinion of Rear Admiral Albert Anthony Calavicci. It was tiresome to have to read consumption reports of every kind all the time - almost as tiresome as approving or disapproving requests of every kind. Requests for vacation time, for supplies for every area of the complex, for appointments, for reviews - the list was seemingly endless. Sometimes Al just wanted to put all of the paperwork into the trash can and make someone else do it.

This was one of those sometimes.

Al was beginning to feel old and there was more to it than his being sixty-five years and a few months old. It was more than the fact that he was becoming increasingly far-sighted, making it necessary for him to use reading glasses when he worked alone in the office. It was more than the fact that he tended to tire more easily than he did five years ago. It was a combination of all of the above and of the job he performed every day for the past four and a half years. It was also the fact that everyone had just recently celebrated his best friend's birthday - without the guest of honor.

Al felt like a rubber ball, bouncing around the Project Quantum Leap complex as much as Dr. Samuel Beckett was bouncing around in time. There were so many things Al had to do, so many responsibilities to which he had to attend. Sometimes he felt overpowered with all his responsibilities. However, he never - not once - regretted having them.

Having rested his tiring eyes briefly, Al reflexively adjusted his pale blue dress jacket before picking up a sheet of paper and placing his glasses back over his eyes. Quickly reading the request for approval of food supplies, he initialed the paper and placed it to the side.

"Admiral," a silky feminine voice interrupted Al's picking up yet another report.

Al looked up at the ceiling, removing the reading glasses as he did so. He knew his actions were very likely pointless. The owner of the voice probably already knew Al had the glasses and she was definitely not located on the ceiling. In fact, she was several floors below Al's office.

"Yes, Ziggy," he replied to the beckon. "Has Sam leaped?"

"Negative, Admiral. Dr. Beckett remains between leaps," the silky voice told him. "However, I believe I have come across something about which you should be immediately informed."

Al frowned with curiosity, placing the glasses on top of his desk as he leaned slightly forward in his chair.

"What is it?" he questioned, wondering what Project Quantum Leap's hybrid computer had found.

"I have been scanning the police channels throughout the state and I have come across something very disturbing," Ziggy started. "The Alamogordo Police Department is searching for you."

Al's eyes widened in shock. "What? Why?"

"Your presence is demanded at the sight of an attempted suicide."

"By whom?"

"By the woman who is attempting suicide."

Al was seriously thinking about what he had been told. "Who is the woman?"

"I have as yet been unable to discover her identity, Admiral," Ziggy told him plainly. "However, I believe it would be wise and prudent if you and Dr. Beeks were to proceed immediately to the police scene in Alamogordo. The woman had threatened to kill herself if you do not arrive before sunset."

Al exhaled, standing with determination. "Okay, then. Have Beeks meet me on Level One and see if you can get anything on this woman." He walked towards his office door. "Contact me the minute you have anything on this situation and why whoever this woman is wants to see me."

Exiting the office, he walked down the brightly-lit hallway, thinking seriously about the turn of events. Who was this woman who demanded his presence and why him? He was certain that no one he knew would even think of suicide much less attempt it.

He stopped at the elevator and waited patiently for the cab to arrive.

The elevator doors opened moments later to reveal a lovely black woman waiting in the cab. He joined the woman, giving her a nod.

"You're quick," he commented to her.

"Obviously, Ziggy informed you of the situation at the same time she informed me," Verbina Beeks concluded as the cab continued its rise to the top level of the complex. "So, who is this person? Or do you know?"

Al shook his head. "No idea. I figure if my presence there will save her life, I don't care who she is."

Verbina looked at the Admiral with care. "You're concerned that she really is someone you know."

Al returned the look. "Wouldn't you be?"

Verbina gave him a little smile. "Yes, I would. But there's something else, isn't there?"

Al exhaled. "If I don't know her, why did she ask for me?"

The two remained silent as the elevator door opened. They stepped out and walked towards a large, well-guarded, metal door.

"We won't know the answer to that until we get there," Verbina finally answered as they approached the door and exited the complex.

The moment Al and Verbina arrived at the twenty-story building, Al introduced both of them to the nearest police officer. Hearing Al's name, the officer raised his eyebrows. He lifted his radio and informed his captain of the new arrivals. A moment later, he escorted Al and Verbina past the police line.

The Captain stepped out of the building a moment later and looked at the two arrivals with firm eyes.

"Al Calavicci?" he questioned.

Al nodded firmly.

The Captain extended his hand. "Captain Joe Reese."

Al shook his head and released it. "Dr. Verbina Beeks, psychiatrist," he introduced his companion.

Reese and Verbina shook hands.

"So," Reese started. "What's between you and this woman?"

Al looked up at the woman hanging ten floors above him. "I've never seen her before."

"Are you sure about that?"

Al turned his eyes to him. "Positive."

Reese looked at him carefully. "You know, that's funny because she asked for you by name and here you came walking right into our hands."

Al lowered his eyelids slightly. "I have my resources," he told him. "Look, Captain, we could stand here all day and argue why she called for me or we can go up and get that woman out of danger. Personally, I prefer the latter. Don't you?"

Reese took a breath before escorting Al and Verbina into the building. A few minutes later, the three entered the office, which had been set up as a temporary center of operations.

"What's her name? What does she want?" Al asked, looking towards the open window and the man who was leaning slightly out of it to talk to the woman.

"She says her name is Angela Bea Cotton," the Captain told him. "Our psychiatrist has been talking to her but so far all she had demanded was you. She won't say anything else."

As the Captain finished his sentence, the psychiatrist came back into the room and turned towards him. The psychiatrist shook his head.

"All she does is keep demanding for Al Calavicci," he told Reese.

Reese nodded. "Well, her demands have been answered. Dr. Anson, Mr. Calavicci," he introduced.

Al and Anson shook hands.

"Are you sure you've never heard of Angela Bea Cotton," Reese repeated himself.

Al exhaled slowly. "Captain, if I knew this woman, I promise you that I would have told you by now. But I don't and I have no idea why she would ask for me." He turned to Anson. "How is she?"

Anson took a breath. "Very emotional. Very angry."

"Angry?" Verbina questioned. "About what?"

Anson shook his head. "I don't know but it definitely has something to do with you, Mr. Calavicci."

"Admiral," Al corrected gently. He exhaled. "If she's angry with me for whatever reason, then I'm the last person she should see."

"You might be the only person who can talk her into coming in," Verbina told him gently.

Al rubbed the bottom of his face gently, thinking seriously about the situation. "Well, then, I'd better get to work. Don't you think?" he commented to Verbina before slowly heading for the window.

"I'll guide you through it," Verbina informed him, following him to the window.

Reese and Anson watched as Al and Verbina reached the window.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Reese questioned.

Anson paused. "I don't think anyone else would be acceptable to her. He's probably the last hope we have in bringing her back in."

Reese frowned slightly at the statement but accepted the truth of it.

Al took a deep breath before slowly sticking his head and shoulders out of the window while Verbina positioned herself so that she could assist as best as possible.

"Angela," he said gently.

Angela quickly looked towards the voice and glared at the source. "There you are, you son of a bitch," she commented angrily.

_This is getting off to a great start_, Al thought sadly but didn't allow any signs of despair show on his face.

"Angela, I understand you asked to see me," he started. "I'm here now,

Angela, just like you wanted. So why don't you come on in and discuss your grievances with me."

Angela huffed. "Grievances," she repeated quietly. "Do you know the etymology of that word, Al Calavicci? It comes from the Old French verb "grever", which means "to grieve". Therefore, a grievance is something that causes one to grieve." She looked at Al with deep hatred. "That means you are my grievance, Al Calavicci. You destroyed my life, you bastard! She named you! You killed her!" She raised her scissors and put the cord between the blades.

"Wait a minute, Angela!" Al said firmly but quietly. "Let's talk about this."

Angela glared at him. "You think I asked for you just so you could pull me in? I don't think so." She closed the blades quickly together.

"No!" Al screamed, reaching out for her.

But it was too late. Angela tumbled down at a dizzying rate as spectators watched from the ground with terrifying curiosity.

Al dropped to his knees in anguish, unable to bear what he was witnessing. He closed his eyes to block out the sight. Little did he know that he would still be able to hear Angela hit the sidewalk, even when he was eleven stories up.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"It's not your fault, Al."

Al stared out the passenger's side window while Verbina drove them back to the complex. The look on his face was frighteningly despaired, almost as if the Admiral was thinking of joining Angela in death. Verbina knew that wasn't the case. However, she was still very concerned for the Admiral's mental and emotional well being.

"The hell it isn't," Al finally replied dryly. "You heard her. Somehow,

I was the cause of someone's death, someone who named me for something." He paused. "At least, I was in Angela's mind. That makes me just as guilty as if I had cut that cord myself."

Verbina exhaled. "You know that isn't true."

Al didn't reply for a moment. "It sure as hell feels true." He turned his head and looked at her. "What the hell do you expect me to do, Verbina? Just shrug my shoulders and say 'Oh, well. She was just some crazy nut'? I can't do that, Verbina. It may be cut and dry for the police but it isn't for me." He paused dramatically. "A woman committed suicide, Beeks. She called me to make sure I saw her do it. Why?"

She shook her head slowly but didn't answer.

Al exhaled, understanding her silence. He rubbed his eyes with the tips of the fingers of his right hand, ending his strokes at the bridge of his nose. "I have to know why, Verbina," he said quietly, looking out the windshield at the stretching highway in front of them. "Why did she do it?"

Verbina hesitated as she watched the mountainous horizon come closer and closer - as the mountain surrounded by a blue haze became more and more clear. She wished she had an immediate answer for her troubled friend. All she could give him was the answer she had.

"While the police were questioning you, I took the liberty of calling on Ziggy to research on Angela. Hopefully, she'll find something that will explain all this."

Al didn't comment to Verbina's reply. The car's passengers now easily saw the mountainous horizon. They could clearly see their destination, the mountain shrouded with the blue haze.

"I knew her, Verbina."

The statement came as a shock to the psychiatrist. She gave Al a questioning glance. "You told the police - you told me - that you didn't," she pointed out.

Al exhaled slowly. "I know I did. I didn't lie." He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I don't know the name. I'm sure I've never met Angela Cotton until today but I know her face. I've seen her somewhere. Maybe she looks like someone I knew. I'm not sure but there's something familiar about her."

The two said nothing as the car sped on through unmarked iron fences and arrived at their destination.

---

Al sat at his desk once again, this time staring into nothingness, deep in thought. It had been almost two hours and, no matter how deeply he thought, he still could not say how he knew the woman who he had mysteriously wronged. He was, therefore, very pleased with the interruption which came as a loud chime.

"Come in," he replied to the chime, allowing Verbina Beeks to enter the office, a small stack of papers in her hand.

The psychiatrist placed the papers before Al and sat across from him without permission. "Angela Bea Cotton," she told him as he looked through the papers with curiosity. "Born February 21st, 1953 in Charleston, North Carolina. Her mother was unmarried and gave her children up for adoption. Angela was adopted in August of 1953 by Herbert and Carol Cotton. Graduated in 1977 from the University of Virginia. She spent several years in Charlottesville where she was reunited with her fraternal twin sister. The two live together until the sister's death in 1980."

Al got a peculiar look on his face. There was definitely something on his mind and Verbina knew it. She looked at him with questioning.

"What is it?" she asked.

Al took a slow deep breath. "What was her sister's name?"

Verbina tilted her head slightly, her curiosity heightened by Al's question. "Susan, I believe," she replied. "Susan..." She hesitated, searching for the last name.

"Chambers," Al finished quietly, closing his eyes as he said the name.

Verbina looked at him with surprise. "Yes," she confirmed. "You knew

Susan. That's why Angela was so familiar to you."

Al nodded slowly. "She had told me she had a twin sister but I had never met Angela. Susan called her Angie. I never made the connection up in that building." He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk and his forehead in his hands. "Gawd, if I had made that connection, I would have had at least a chance to save Angela. I would have at least known why she called for me, why she was so angry with me."

Verbina was quiet for a moment. "Why was she angry with you?"

He took a deep breath. "She believed I killed her sister. But I didn't." He looked into the psychiatrist's eyes. "I couldn't have even if I had wanted to, which I didn't." He lowered his eyes. "I think it bothered her that I had a perfect alibi when she was convinced I killed her." He paused momentarily. "She never realized how much she hurt me with her accusations."

"Angela's file says that she had been in a mental hospital for the past eighteen months, only recently released," Verbina told him.

He exhaled. "I guess she never got over her sister's death."

"Admiral," a voice interrupted.

Al rolled his eyes and looked at Verbina, annoyed by the interruption but also thankful for it. She returned the look with a slight shrug.

"What is it, Ziggy?" Al finally replied to the interruption.

"I thought that you would like to know that we have a guest in the

Waiting Room."

Al took a breath and slowly exhaled. "Thank you, Ziggy. Dr. Beeks and I will be down shortly."

"Very well, Admiral," the computer replied before leaving the two in peace.

Al stood up and looked at Verbina. "Shall we go?"

She nodded slowly before standing and looking at him with concern. "Are you going to be all right concerning Angela?"

He gave her a slight smile. "I'll be all right," he told her before he headed for the door.

Verbina watched Al as she followed him, knowing that he had just lied.

---

Soft lips pressed up against his and, for a moment, he forgot he was kissing a stranger. Not only did he let himself be kissed, but also he kissed her in return, relishing in the brief moment and knowing that this woman truly cared for the person she thought she was kissing.

The moment broke however when Sam Beckett noticed she was starting to unbutton his shirt. He gently pulled away from her, trying his best not to make the situation more uncomfortable.

"Baby, what's wrong?" the woman asked as Sam buttoned his shirt, not looking at her.

"Nothing's wrong," Sam assured, trying to keep his voice from saying otherwise.

The woman frowned at him, placing his hands on her hips. "You're worried about him, aren't you? I told you, we broke up over a year ago. He dumped ME remember?"

Sam hadn't looked at her yet. He laughed weakly, nervously.

"Well," he started with an embarrassed smile. He finally looked at the woman he had kissed and his smile faded to a look of pure shock. "Oh, my gawd!" he whispered. "Beth?"

She glared at him before taking a step forward and slapping him hard across the face.

"That's not funny, Dick!" she growled at him.

"She's not Beth, Sam," Al told the scientist as Sam rubbed his cheek.

"I know that," Sam whispered back to the Observer, not knowing that his assailant heard him as well.

"Then why the hell did you say it?" she said angrily.

Sam looked to Al for help to see the Admiral looking at her with haunted eyes.

"Gawd, she looks so much like her!" Al said mostly to himself.

She was still waiting for a reply. "Well?" she demanded.

Sam looked at her, again startled by the resemblance.

"I..." he started with hesitation.

She frowned at him. "You know, Dick? Sometimes, you can be a real asshole." With those words, she quickly exited through a door, slamming it as she left.

Sam and Al stared at the door through which she had left, each with their own unique expression.

Al whistled quietly. "Still was fiery as ever, I see."

Sam looked at his partner with confusion. "You know her?"

Al turned away and walked a short ways with a huff of a laugh. "You

kiddin'? I dated her once upon a time."

Sam blinked, trying to absorb the latest bit of information he was given. Al looked at his friend and raised his eyebrows at the look of confused shock on Sam's face. "Don't look so shocked about it, Sam." He pointed towards the door. "I mean, it's pretty obvious why I dated her."

"She looks like Beth," Sam reasoned.

Al nodded slightly. "A hell of a lot like her and she knew it. I told her so. So, it's no wonder that she blew her top with your reaction."

Sam exhaled, looking at his surroundings. The apartment was definitely the kind that the upper middle class, or the lower upper class, would keep. The living room was very spacious with leather sofas and chairs, oak tables, and brass lamps. There was a well applianced kitchen to the right of the front door and there were a couple of doors to the left, presumably the bedrooms of the apartment. Just across from the front door was a large bay window, which overlooked a city. To the right of the door was two other doors which, Sam presumed, were a closet and a bathroom. All this Sam gathered with a quick glance before sitting on a leather couch and facing Al.

"Al, what is going on here? Who is she? How did you meet?"

Al took a breath before raising the handlink. His eyes squinted ever so slightly as he read the information Ziggy was providing to him.

"Today's April 22, 1980, and your name is Dick Anderson-Kemp. You're a thirty-three year old accountant with an ego that almost surpasses Ziggy's." He looked at Sam pointedly. "The guy in the Waiting Room? He's driving Beeks nuts! He thinks he's God's gift to women. Anyway, you work for a big time accounting firm in Charlottesville, Virginia, and you make a whopping thirty thousand dollars a year, rounded to the nearest thousandth." He raised his eyebrows. "And you're due for a promotion. Makes me wonder why this guy lives in Virginia."

Sam nodded at the information. "What about her?"

Al raised his head upon Sam's question, lowering the handlink as he did so. "Susan Chambers," he told him. "Twenty-seven year old business woman. Runs and owns her own shop near her alma mater, the University of Virginia. She loved the Beatles, chocolate, really good lasagna, horror movies, and sleeping naked in satin sheets." He smiled at the embarrassed flush in Sam's face. "You asked," he reminded.

Sam cleared his throat with discomfort. "So you did more than just date her."

A gentle smile crossed Al's face. "We had our moments." He exhaled. "I was going to marry her but it just didn't work out."

That caught Sam's attention. "Let me guess. She left you."

Al shook his head. "No. I left her."

Sam raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Al shrugged slightly, almost nonchalantly. "We were... engaged... for short while but one day I realized that I was going to marry her because she looked like Beth, not because she was Susan Chambers."

"And that angered her," Sam concluded.

"Infuriated her is more like it," Al replied, beginning a well remembered eight step pace. "She had fallen head over heels for the war hero who barely survived eight years in a Vietnamese POW camp. And me? Every time I looked at her, all I could see was the wife who wasn't there waiting for me when I returned a year before." He hesitated. "Plus she was only a kid - twenty-three years old - and I was forty-two. We weren't really made for each other." He looked towards the door again. "Looks like she never really forgave me for unintentionally leading her on." He exhaled and rubbed his face.

Sam thought for a moment. "What else did you see in her? I mean, it had to be more than the fact that she looks like Beth. Did she act like her?"

Al laughed sadly. "There was nothing else, Sam. She and Beth were nothing alike other than appearance. Susan had one hell of a temper and like things a little on the kinky side. Beth was almost made of patience and was more interested in the emotion of love rather than the act, if you know what I mean." He took a breath. "When I met Susan, I was still hoping that Beth would find out that I was alive and that she would come running into my arms. I'd just gotten out of the hospital and, subconsciously, I thought that Susan would be the closest I would get to having Beth back in my life."

Sam took a breath, placing what Al told him to a corner in his mind.

"So, why have I leaped into your ex-girlfriend's boyfriend?"

"My ex-fiancée's fiancé," Al corrected.

"They get married?" Sam questioned.

"Well, that was the intention."

Sam frowned. "Let me guess. He dumps her too."

Al blinked a couple of times, a sad look on his face. "No. She dies."

His words shocked Sam. The latter closed his eyes sadly. "She died young."

Al hesitated. "She died on April 23rd, 1980."

Sam quickly opened his eyes and looked at Al with surprise. "The 23rd?

But that's..."

Al nodded. "She dies tomorrow."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"I'm here to save Susan's life," Sam concluded.

"Not just her life," Al said quietly.

Sam looked at Al with concern. "What happened... What's going to happen?"

Al's face grew sad. He spoke without once looking at the handlink. "Susan's going to go home to her apartment which she shares with her sister Angela. Her sister won't be home. Susan undresses and takes a shower. When she steps out, someone grabs her and kills her." He hesitated. "She survives just long enough for Angela to find her dying on her kitchen floor from knife wounds to her abdomen."

Sam frowned at the manner in which he had spoken. "You speak as if you were there."

Al looked at Sam with surprise. "I wasn't there, Sam," he told him, sounding a little defensive. "It was completely impossible for me to have been there." He started to pace again. "I wish she could have understood that."

"Susan?" Sam questioned gently.

Al shook his head and looked at him. "Angela." He stopped pacing. "She committed suicide this morning." He lowered his head. "And she made sure that I was there to witness it."

"Oh, my gawd!" Sam exclaimed. He closed his eyes in sympathy before looking up at his friend again. "She never got over her sister's death?"

Al shook his head. "No, she never did."

Sam exhaled sadly. "Why you?"

Al hesitated. "She has always believed that I killed Susan."

"But you didn't."

Al glared at him. "Are you doubting me?"

Sam stood, frowning at his friend. "Of course not, Al. You know me better than that. I'm just getting all the facts."

Al's face softened a bit at the realization of his question. "Sorry,

Sam. I guess I'm still a little bothered by not being able to save Angela."

Sam gave him a reassuring smile. "We'll both save her when we save Susan."

Al nodded. "And we'll save her from years in a mental hospital. You can see how Susan's death was one hell of a big wrong."

"Did they ever find her killer?"

Al shook his head. "Never. Yet another reason Angela blamed me."

"She needed a scapegoat," Sam concluded. "But why you? I mean, other than you used to date her sister, I don't see the connection."

"She insisted that Susan named me as her murderer before she died."

"That's impossible!" Sam exclaimed. "You couldn't murder anyone, Al!"

"I'm glad you think so," he replied. "Because I did have the perfect alibi."

"And that was?"

Al gave him a small smile. "I was orbiting the Earth in the space shuttle, launching a military satellite." He paused. "Now, tell me that's not one hell of an alibi."

"But Angela still insisted that you did it," Sam stated.

Al nodded his head sadly. "Yeah. Poor woman."

There was a moment of silence between the friends as they thought of the situation in which Sam had leaped.

"What time does Susan die?" Sam questioned.

Al checked the handlink. "We aren't sure. Sometime between four and six. Ziggy says the best way to keep her safe is to take her out tomorrow night. That is unless her murderer is someone she knows. In which case, the time and date of her death may shift."

"How's that?"

"If her murderer knows her, it's obviously not a random act of violence. So, the guy would be watching for opportunities to do it and get away with it." He hesitated. "I hate to say it, but I think it could be someone she knows. The police said that the door was unlocked so anyone could have gotten into the apartment. But, from what I remember of Susan, she never left the door unlocked when she was alone in the apartment."

"So, you're saying that whoever killed her had to be someone she knew because he would have needed to have a key to get into the apartment."

"Exactly," Al told him.

Sam exhaled. "Terrific," he said sarcastically. He exhaled loudly. "So, how do we find out who this guy is?"'

Al looked at him firmly. "The only way we can at the moment. I'll go back and have Ziggy run a few things around in that hard drive of hers while you keep an eye on Susan." He opened the Imaging Chamber door.

"Wait a minute, Al," Sam stopped him. "Where's Susan's apartment? What's her phone number? I'm supposed to keep an eye on her, right?"

"Oh!" Al said quickly, stepping back into the Imaging Chamber. He punched a few buttons on the handlink and slapped it before he got what he wanted from the small device. "Here you are," he told Sam, showing him the information he needed. "Watch out for her temper, Sam. She can be a tornado if she's pushed hard enough."

Sam gave him a small smile as Al slipped through the door and disappeared from Sam's sight.

Sam exhaled at Al's words and began to form a plan of defense for the fiery Beth-look-alike.

---

Verbina Beek's calm composure cracked the moment she left the Waiting Room, suddenly free to let herself show her anger and frustration. She glared at Al, who had just returned to the Control Room as well.

Al took a step back, surprised by the glare. "What is that for?" he questioned her.

"Do you know what that... THING... has been doing?" she said angrily. "He's been trying to judge my bra size!" She slammed her handlink down on the control console as Al placed his on it with much less force. "That man is impossible!"

Al held back his amusement of Verbina's situation but not enough for the psychiatrist not to notice.

"Of course, you would find this amusing! You're not the one being sexually harassed!"

"Calm down, Verbina," Al told her. "This isn't the first time we've had a guest make a pass at you."

Verbina exhaled. "This wasn't a pass, Al! This was sexual harassment!"

Al thought about her words, his face looking at her with genuine concern. "Do you want me to put a little pressure on him so he'll stop?"

She exhaled again, finally calming herself. She shook her head. "No. He isn't being very cooperative with giving us information now and his personality indicates that he'd just close up completely if we put pressure on him."

Al was uncertain. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I'm sure. Thanks for the offer, though. I can handle him."

She sounded like she was trying to reassure herself rather than Al.

He nodded a bit. "Okay. If you really are sure..." He took a breath. "If you change your mind, let me know. I'll be glad to teach the guy a lesson on respecting ladies."

Verbina smiled at his words, taking them for the genuineness of his intentions. "Thanks, Al. I'll remember that."

Al gave her a friendly smile before turning towards the head programmer. "Gushie," he told the small nervous man with halitosis. "Have Ziggy run scenarios to find out who Susan's killer could be if it were someone she knows. Update me on her progress."

Gushie nodded. "Right away, Admiral," he answered as Al and Verbina left the Control Room together.

"So, other than sexual innuendoes, what have you got from Dick

Anderson-Kemp?" Al asked as the two walked to the elevator, seeming to head for the same destination.

Verbina shook her head. "Very little. He has no idea who would want to kill his fiancée. But he did swear that he would, and I quote, 'kill the fucking bastard' once he finds out who attacked her."

Al gave a small shrug. "Can't really blame him for the sentiment. She is his fiancée, after all. I would've reacted the same way if I were in his place."

Verbina frowned in disgust. "The man has a mouth more foul than yours when you're angry. And that's when he's calm." She rubbed her hands together. "I can't wait for this leap to end and soon. He gives me the serious creeps. I can't see how any woman would find him attractive."

"She likes it kinky," Al commented. "Maybe that's his appeal to her."

She exhaled. "Maybe." The two entered the elevator and started up to the fifth level. "But what she may find attractive, I find disgusting."

Al said nothing, letting the elevator reach its destination and stepping out. He turned, noticing that Verbina wasn't following him as she usually did.

"No coffee break today?" he questioned.

She shook her head. "I think I'll go take a nap, get ready for round three in the ring with Mr. Chauvinist Pig."

Al smiled with understanding. "Don't let him get to you, Verbina. You won't have to see him again after a couple of days."

She gave him a slight nod just before the elevator door close and continued towards the residents' apartments.

Al proceeded to the cafeteria, procured his cup of steaming hot coffee with three packets of sugar, and took it down to his office where a pile of paperwork waited for his attention.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Sam had found his way to Susan's apartment with the directions Al had given him. Now, he rang the doorbell and waited for the door to open.

"Coming!" he heard Susan's voice call out. A moment later, the door opened and Susan frowned at him, looking very annoyed. "What the hell are you doing, Dick? Why didn't you use the key?"

Sam hesitated. "I... didn't want to bust in on you. I mean, after that argument we had..."

She gave a sarcastic smile. "It never stopped you before." She exhaled.

"Come on in. I was just making dinner. Want to join me?"

Her attitude was a surprise to Sam. He didn't expect her to be so seemingly forgiving of his actions earlier. Still, he wasn't going to reject a chance to stay close to Susan to protect her.

"Sure," he said as she walked from the door as if she expected no other answer. He entered the apartment and closed the door behind him as he took a quick glance.

Susan's apartment was much smaller than Dick's apartment, which was understandable given how much less Susan earned. Still, it was well decorated and felt very relaxed yet still very upper middle class.

Well-upholstered chairs adorned the small living room. The kitchen, though also small, was well organized and well applianced. It was beginning to look as if Dick and Susan were two peas in a pod.

"Go ahead and pour yourself a drink - wine, scotch, whatever you want," she told him.

"Do you have a beer?" Sam asked as he approached the kitchen.

Susan laughed. "Cute," she commented. "There's a nice Bordeaux at the bar."

Sam frowned a bit. Obviously, Susan and Dick weren't the Coors Light type. He walked over to the bar and looked at the selection before taking up the offer for a glass of Bordeaux.

Susan came out of the kitchen with a whimsical smile.

"Dinner's in the oven. It won't be ready for another half an hour." She sauntered over to him and wrapped her arms around his chest. "That gives you plenty of time to make up for your behavior this afternoon." She kissed him seductively and started to undo his shirt.

Sam stopped her quickly, nervous about her actions.

She frowned strongly. "What's wrong now?" She took a step back. "That's the second time you've done that today. Am I not attractive to you anymore?" She seemed scared that the answer to that question could be

"yes."

Sam frowned slightly. "No, I... I find you very attractive, Susan."

"Then what is it?" She paused. "It is Al, isn't it? I swear, Dick. There's nothing between us anymore. You have to believe me. I don't love him. I love you. Only you. Please, don't turn me away. Please."

Sam thought about her words carefully. There was something in her voice that showed a hint of fear. He wasn't sure what Susan was afraid of but he knew it directly involved Dick. If only Al could come back and tell me why she's afraid. Maybe she knows what is going to happen tomorrow.

"I'm not turning you away," he assured her.

She hugged him tightly. "Then, why won't you make love to me?"

Sam hesitated. Because I'm not Dick, he thought but didn't answer. "I don't want to tonight. I can be with you without sleeping with you.

Can't I?"

The answer seemed to surprise her but she accepted it nonetheless.

"Of course, you can." She pulled away from him. "I'll go finish dinner."

Sam nodded quietly, watching as she walked away. He didn't know why but he once again got the feeling that Susan was more frightened then surprised by his answer. He just wished he knew what was scaring her so much.

They spent dinner talking about Susan's business. She was so pleased with how well it was doing and seemed to be making a very good profit.

Sam listened intently, looking at the gleam in her eyes and wondering if Al still would have fallen in love with her if she hadn't looked like his first wife. Susan was a wonderfully cheerful woman, full of energy and spirit. She was the kind of woman that would definitely have attracted the Admiral in the future, regardless of her appearance. Sam himself felt himself falling for her.

"Is your dinner okay?" she asked, suddenly seeming very frightened again. "You haven't been eating much."

He smiled at her. "It's fine. Thank you."

"Are you sure?"

The question caught Sam's attention and worried him. Something was definitely happening between Dick and Susan. Nonetheless, he kept his smile.

"It's delicious, Susan. Thank you."

She seemed greatly relieved by his answer. "Good. I'm glad you like it." She gave him a nervous smile, as if wondering if he was telling the truth.

When she was finally satisfied by his response, after he had eaten for a while, the dinner conversation continued where it had stopped, seeming as if it had never been interrupted by Susan's question.

Dinner having been finished, Sam excused himself to leave the apartment, having an idea of what could happen if he didn't. It wasn't that he was interested. He had grown extremely attracted to Susan during dinner. But he knew it wouldn't be fair to either Susan or him to go through with it. So, politely and with gentle assurances to Susan, he returned to Dick's apartment, making a mental note to question Al about Susan's odd behavior.

---

Hours later, Angela Cotton walked into the apartment and smelled the air. There was still a faint scent of cologne and chicken. She huffed, seeming a little upset by the scent.

"Susan?" she called out as she headed for the kitchen. "I'm home."

Susan came out of her bedroom, dressed in her nightgown. "Hey," she said as she walked up to her twin sister and kissed her cheek. "How did it go?"

Angela looked at her with a glare. "I was about to ask you the same question."

Susan took a step away from her. "Angie?" she questioned as if she weren't sure it was her sister before her.

"I told you never to call me that! He was here, wasn't he?" Angela shouted.

"I... I don't know what you're talking about," Susan stammered, creeping further away from her.

Angela grabbed her arm and pulled her closer. She gave a small, wicked smile. "Of course, you do, darling. I'm talking about that guy you've been seeing. I'm talking about Dick. I could smell his cologne the moment I walked in." The look in her eyes was absolutely frightening.

Susan struggled to get out of her grip. "Please," she begged Angela, her voice a terrified whisper.

"I told you before. I don't want him around you," Angela continued, anger in her voice. "When are you going to get it into your head, Susie? Huh? He's a sick, sick man! How can you possibly prefer him to what we've got! He'll only hurt you in the end. You know that."

Susan continued to try to pull away but was failing against Angela's strong grip. "Leave us alone!" she exclaimed, becoming angrier with every passing minute. "Get out of our lives! Can't you see what you're doing to us?" She sobbed slightly. "Please, let me go. Please," she breathed, in obvious pain. "Don't let him do this to us, Angie. Don't let him tear us apart this way. Please, Angie." She paused, looking into her sister's eyes. "I love you, Angie."

Angela's face softened. She blinked a couple of times before slowly releasing Susan's arm, finally allowing the latter to pull away. Susan immediately tended her arm by rubbing the bruised area gently.

"I..." Angela began, looking at the red mark on Susan's arm. She looked into Susan's eyes, seeing the fear and concern written in them. "Suz,

I'm sorry. I..."

Susan gently took her arm and led her into the living room. "It's okay," she said gently. "It's not your fault, Angie."

Angela fought to keep the tears from falling from her eyes. "Why can't he leave us alone?"

Susan shook her head as she helped Angela onto the couch. "I don't know."

The latter couldn't stop herself from crying. "I hate him! I hate him!"

Susan brushed her sister's hair, seeming nonplussed by the latter's harsh words. "I know, honey. I know." She raised Angela's head and turned it so that she was forced to look at her. "You need help, Angie, especially if you want him out of our lives."

Angela nodded slightly. "I know. But I'm scared, Suz. What if I get help and he still torments us?"

Susan gave her twin a gentle, patient smile. "We'll work it out, honey." Her smile widened. "We always have before, haven't we?"

Angela nodded again. "Yeah." She hugged Susan tightly. "I love you,

Suz."

Susan returned the hug. "I love you too, Angie." She pulled away gently. "Now, why don't you take Belinda's usual advice and get yourself a cup of hot tea and a hot bath, slip into your nightgown, and drift off to sleep."

Angela laughed gently. "She is one heck of a character, isn't she?"

Susan laughed as well. "Yes, she is." She took a breath. "Go on, honey.

Get some sleep." She stood and kissed Angela's forehead. "Good night,

Angie."

Angela looked at Susan with a smile. "Good night." She waited until her sister was in her bedroom before standing and taking Belinda's advice.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Brown sugar. How come you taste so good? Brown sugar. Just like a black girl should."

She quickly shut off the radio, quieting Mick Jagger's question. Despite what she had told Al, Verbina didn't take a nap. Instead, only minutes after she arrived in her quarters, she went to her desk to work, turning on the radio on her desk for a bit of distraction. But when she heard the Rolling Stones' rocking tribute to either an illegal drug or a black slave woman, she couldn't listen to it. Mick Jagger wasn't the only one to sing those lines that day and she really didn't want to focus on the other person who sang those lines. She wasn't sure why it bothered her so much. It wasn't the first time she heard it from a guest. But this time, she couldn't just shrug it off like she had done before. This time, there was intensity in the way Dick sang those words.

It frightened her greatly.

The problem was he hadn't done anything that could be constituted as overt sexual harassment. A couple of lines from a Rolling Stones song and a few glances were nothing Verbina hadn't handled before and she wasn't sure why she couldn't handle it this time.

She wondered if Susan received the same kind of treatment from him and, if she did, how she handled it. Did she handle it at all? Did she just accept it as being harmless or did she just put up with it?

Verbina looked at her clock and noticed that five hours had passed relatively unnoticed by her. She sighed. She didn't really want to but she knew she had to go check on the guest to see how he was doing and to see if she could get anymore information from him.

She slowly made her way to the Waiting Room, taking a handlink and putting it in her lab coat pocket as she passed the control console.

Taking a breath, she stepped into the Waiting Room, preparing herself for "round three with Mr. Chauvinist Pig."

"Well, well," Dick said with a lustful smile. "Chocolate pudding is back."

Verbina took a breath, trying to ignore his comment.

"I came to see how you were," she told him very professionally.

He smiled and walked closer to her. "I'm just dandy like candy now that you're here."

She took a step back, suddenly feeling more than a little uncomfortable. "Please, Mr. Anderson-Kemp. I would appreciate if you behaved less familiar with me."

He smiled mischievously. "Oh, come on, Verbina. May I call you Verbina?" He came closer to her and circled her slightly.

"No. You may call me Dr. Beeks," she told him firmly.

He shook his head. "I don't think so, Verbina."

A voice screamed out in her mind, ordering her to leave. She didn't hesitate in her actions. She immediately headed for the Waiting Room door.

Dick blocked her exit, a dangerous look on his face.

"Step out of my way, Mr. Anderson-Kemp," she ordered as firmly as she could.

"Or what?" he questioned with a small, sarcastic smile.

She tried to walk around him but he blocked her every attempt.

"If you don't get out of my way, I will have to call security," she warned.

He grabbed her wrist quickly and pulled her towards him. "Then call them," he replied before kissing her forcibly on the lips. He quickly forced her towards a wall, his kiss preventing her from any sound except low muffles as she struggled to get away from him.

She started to hit him, trying to force him to release her. Her efforts didn't seem to be working, resulting only in her arms being forced behind her back so that they were pinned painfully against the wall. She felt his hand caress her inside thigh, his intentions obvious. Fear overcame her, causing her to forget two things that were to her advantage. The first was that he would have to let go of her to get off the Fermisuit he was wearing. The second marched through the door and yanked her assailant from her before giving him a hard right cross to the jaw, causing the man to fall to the floor.

Verbina didn't see her savior but she had an idea of who it was. Her suspicions were confirmed when strong yet gentle masculine hands held her shoulders and concerned brown eyes looked into hers.

"Are you okay, Verbina?" Al questioned, obvious anger in his voice.

Fortunately, the object of his anger was also obvious.

She hesitated before nodding a bit. "Yeah. I think so."

His face softened. "Why don't you go upstairs and get some rest?"

For a moment, she was silent before she nodded again. "Yeah, I think I will," she replied just before she promptly fainted directly into his arms.

---

Sam worried. He was pretty good at that, especially since it was past noon and there was still no word from Al. Of course, Sam couldn't remember what time it was for his Admiral partner. He couldn't remember if Al was sleeping or not. He certainly didn't expect the Observer to appear looking as if he were ready to kill.

"Al, what's wrong?" Sam asked as he stood from Dick's office chair.

Al didn't answer for a moment. "We know what happened to Susan."

The words caught Sam's attention. "You know who kills her?" he questioned.

"Ziggy doesn't but I sure as hell do!" Al told him with deep anger, starting to pace to find a way to vent it.

"Who?"

"That bastard in the Waiting Room, that's who!"

Sam's eyes widened. "What!"

"The sleazebag just tried to rape Verbina and I'd bet he's the one who murdered Susan." His voice was filled with controlled rage.

"He tried to..." Sam started in shock. "How is she?"

Al sighed with frustration. "She passed out completely after I stopped the bastard from going too far. I carried her to her quarters and put her to bed. I think she'll be okay, though. She's just a little shocked about what happened and I don't blame her. Luckily, he didn't get very far in his attempt."

Sam exhaled with no small amount of relief. "Thank goodness for that."

He took a breath, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "Al, if Dick's the one who does it, then shouldn't I be leaping? I'm not about to hurt Susan."

Al shook his head. "No, Sam. You have to get Susan away from him. The further away from him she is the better. You have to make sure that Dick won't bother her when he comes back from the future."

Sam nodded a bit. "How do I do that? Rejecting her will only upset her and her rejecting Dick will only cause him to get angry when he returns. What if he goes after her again?" He looked at his partner firmly. "Al, I think Dick's been abusing Susan. If not physically, then mentally because she always seems terrified of offending me. What if he goes after her when he gets back?"

"Good questions," Al commented. "Knowing Susan, she won't leave

Charlottesville when her business is doing so well. So, he'd be able to find her quite easily." He straightened a bit, obviously having come to a decision. "We're just going to have to convince him to leave her alone."

Sam's eyebrows furrowed. "You're going to try to intimidate him?"

Al looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "I can be pretty damn intimidating when in dress uniform."

Sam smiled. "No doubt. How is she now?"

"Susan?" Al questioned for confirmation. "She's taking a brief lunch break."

"What kind of shop does she have?" Sam asked.

"Coffee and pastry shop. It's more like a delicatessen."

Sam smiled. "No wonder it does so well. Her days must be exhausting."

"They are but she loves every minute of it." He took a breath. "Sam, I'm going to go check on Verbina before I go rattle Dick's chain.

Appropriate nickname for him," he finished with a mutter.

Sam nodded. "I'll see what I can come up with to get Susan away from him. Good luck."

Al nodded as well. "Thanks. You too."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Verbina woke with a start of shock, sitting up in her bed quickly.

"Take is easy, 'Bina," Al told her, coaxing her back into a reclining position. "You've had one hell of a day."

She exhaled, obeying Al's gestures to relax. "I was in the Waiting Room and he was..." Her breathing became slightly erratic. "Oh, my gawd!" She looked at Al before clinging to him tightly.

Al returned the hug gently and brushed her hair away from her eyes.

"It's okay. He didn't get far."

"Far enough," she said in a whisper. She pulled away slowly and looked at him with tears in her eyes. "Thank you."

Al raised an eyebrow. "For what?" He gave her a little smile, an indication that he knew exactly what she meant despite his question.

She returned the smile but her body language indicated that she was still not completely over the incident. She wrapped her arms around herself. I feel so used!

Al looked at her carefully. "Are you going to be all right?"

She nodded slowly, uncertainly.

Al gently put his hand on her shoulder, recognizing the truth in her actions. "I'm not going to let him hurt you or anyone else, Verbina. Got it?"

He waited for a response, which he got in the form of a nod. He frowned slightly. He was hoping for something more substantial. The last thing

Quantum Leap needed was a staff psychiatrist who needed therapy.

Taking a breath, he looked at Verbina firmly. "'Bina, look at me," he ordered gently.

Slowly, she raised her head and obeyed, looking so sad and ashamed.

"I'm a psychiatrist, right?" she asked him in a shaky voice. "I'm supposed to be able to handle something like this, right?"

He gave her an understanding smile. "In other people, yes. But in you... Well, maybe you just need a little time to talk to someone." He took a breath before kissing her forehead. "Get some rest, okay? And if you feel like talking, I'll be here to listen."

She gave him a slight but grateful smile. "Thanks, Al."

"Don't mention it," he told her as he stood up and started for the door.

"Al?"

He turned to look at her.

"He's done this to other women," she told him bluntly. "I'm sure of it.

I'm probably the lucky one."

He gave her a firm, solemn look. "I won't let him do it to anyone else.

I promise. I'll handle him."

"I'd feel better if you just stayed away from him, Al. He has some very serious mental problems," she warned.

"Meaning?"

"He definitely has an anti-social personality disorder. His actions since we've met him only confirm it." She looked him directly in the eyes. "He's a dangerous man, Al. You push him the wrong way, the results could be disastrous."

Al nodded at her words. "I'll be careful. I promise. Now, go on and get some sleep. I'll check back on you to see how you're doing." He gave her a smile just before leaving the quarters.

Verbina did her best to obey Al's orders. She didn't know how he was going to handle the visitor but, from the way he spoke and from the gleam in his eyes, she didn't think she wanted to know. Nor did she care, giving her current state of mind. She couldn't help but feel angry for what Dick had nearly done to her.

Willing herself to do so, she fell back to sleep, trying to focus on anything except the man in the Waiting Room.

---

Al adjusted his dress jacket before marching into the Waiting Room, ready to put the fear of Calavicci into Dick Anderson-Kemp. He was looking forward to putting Dick into his place, to showing the nozzle that no one could do what Dick was doing and get away with it.

The moment Al walked into the room, Dick glared at him angrily.

"What are you going to do? Beat me again?"

Al gave him a sarcastic smile. "Don't tempt me into shooting you this time."

Dick looked at Al carefully. "Wait a minute. You're military."

Al nodded. "That's right. And I'm in charge around here."

"What did Brown Sugar call you? Al?"

Hearing the way he spoke about Verbina, Al forced himself to remain calm. He wasn't about to give this man the satisfaction of getting him angry. He frowned at him strongly, instead.

"Her name is Dr. Beeks and you will call her by her proper name."

Dick huffed a bit. "Great. Another damn female rights weirdo. What the hell is this world coming to?"

Al glared at him. "I'm guessing you think a woman's rightful place is the home. Or, better yet, the bed."

"Don't you know the Bible?" Dick questioned him. "God created Eve from

Adam's rib so that she could keep him company and provide him with children. How can women do either if they're out working all the time?"

"Is that how you feel about Susan Chambers?" Al questioned with an angry tone. "Is that why you beat her around? Because she won't be a good little girl and stay home to make your cookies and your bed?"

Dick looked at him with composure, far more composure than Al had at that moment. "I have never hit Susan. I never will. She is my fiancée and I love her very much."

Al's stomach turned at the way Dick looked at him. 'Bina was right, he thought sourly. This guy's a wacko! He took a step towards him. "I doubt you know what love is, Dick," he told him as he looked him in the eyes. "You may not have hit her. But emotional abuse is just as damaging as physical and, if I find that you did or said anything to hurt Susan, you'll regret it for the rest of your life."

"Is that my physical life or my spiritual life?" Dick questioned sarcastically.

"Take your pick."

Dick huffed and took a few steps from Al before turning towards him.

"What right do you have in telling me what I can or cannot do when it concerns my fiancée?"

"The same right that I have in preventing you from raping my friend," Al replied angrily. "What is it with you? Is every woman who has a career a sinner to you? You can't stand the idea that Susan has her own business, much less a job, can you?"

"Susan has already agreed to give up her business when we marry."

Al glared at him. "I bet it's more like you coerced her into giving up her business. Susan would never surrender her freedom." He looked at

Dick carefully. "That is unless she was terrified that something worse would happen if she didn't."

Dick looked at him angrily. "What makes you an expert on my fiancée's personality? You don't even know her!"

"I know her better than you can possibly imagine," Al told him, looking to his eyes.

Dick marched at him angrily and took a hard swing, which Al, being prepared for the event, avoided quickly. Al successfully gave him a hard punch to the jaw, causing the man to stagger away from him.

Dick hesitated at Al's action, seeing the intense hatred that was there. He could also see the intense concern. "Who are you?"

"I'm Al, remember?" the dry response came.

Dick took a step back and examined him carefully. "You... You're the bastard who broke her heart! You're trying to steal her back from me!

She's mine now. You can't have her."

Al took a step closer to him. "If you even touch a hair on her head, you'll be singing for the Vienna Boy's Choir. Do I make myself perfectly clear?"

The two stared down each other for a moment, Dick's resolve slowly giving way to Al's intense gaze. After a moment, Dick pulled away from

Al and took a few steps from him.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Stay away from her. And not just her. If I find out that you've hurt anyone at all, you can count on me coming for you." Al gave him a glare. "Fair warning."

Dick exhaled. "Fine. Have it your way. You can have the damn bitch. She deserved what she got from me anyway."

Al marched towards him angrily and gave him a hard jab to his stomach, causing the man to double over in pain. Pulling his head up by his hair, Al was prepared to give him another punch. Instead, though, he let go of his grip, pushing him away in the same move.

"You're not worth it," he commented before he left the Waiting Room, less certain than before that they had a murderer in their midst.

Despite Dick's attitude towards women and his obvious tendency to treat them like possessions, Al couldn't see the man becoming angry enough to kill. A man who turned to the Bible as his excuse for abusing women wasn't exactly the kind who would break the third Commandment. Still, he had to be sure.

Marching into the Control Room, he went towards the console. "Ziggy," he instructed. "Give me everything you've got on the guest and run another search on anyone other than Anderson-Kemp who has contact with Susan and who might have any reason to hurt her. I want to be sure beyond a shadow of a doubt who we are dealing with."

"Very well, Admiral," Ziggy replied firmly.

Al paused momentarily. "How much time do we have before she dies?"

"Two hours twenty-three minutes."

Al gave a brief nod. "You have an hour to get the information. I want plenty of time to warn Sam of who or what he's dealing with. And get

Susan's autopsy report."

"Affirmative, Admiral," Ziggy replied as Al once more stepped into the

Imaging Chamber.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sam raised his head at the sight of the Imaging Chamber door opening in front of him. Shortly after Al had left, Sam had decided to leave work early, having very little knowledge of the ins and outs of accounting.

He didn't know what to do at the office but he did know that he had a mission to finish and he couldn't do that if he was too far from Susan.

As Al returned to the past, Sam sat at a small bistro table, sipping at a cup of coffee. He appeared to be waiting and Al could only guess for whom.

"Does she know you're out here waiting?" Al questioned as he approached the physicist.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, she knows. It's a busy time of day for her. She asked me to wait for about twenty minutes."

"And that was?"

Sam gave a small smile. "Thirty minutes ago."

Al laughed slightly. "Sounds familiar. So, what are you doing here?"

Sam looked at him with question. "Trying to break it off between her and Dick."

Al nodded a bit. "Good. The guy's a complete wacko, Sam. Beeks says he has a severe case of anti-social behavior and I can tell you from experience that he has one hell of a temper. I don't think Susan knows what she's getting into with this guy, Sam. If she ever saw his true colors, it would disgust her." He raised an eyebrow. "Which might not be a bad idea on how to keep them apart."

Sam glared at him. "I'm not going to go into that, Al, even if I had to."

Al frowned slightly at Sam's words, confusion on his face. A moment later, he realized what Sam meant.

"Sam, I wouldn't dream of you doing such a thing. That's what you're supposed to prevent. Right? Her being hurt? He's already abused her emotionally and that's more than enough." He looked towards the woman who was assisting other customers at the deli counter. "Hell, she probably wants to get away from him herself but is too scared to do so."

As he spoke, a woman entered the deli with a smile on her face and walked directly towards the counter.

"Hey, Suz!" she greeted, bending over the counter and giving Susan a kiss on the cheek.

Al watched her carefully, gaining Sam's attention by his actions.

"Angela?" Sam questioned him, seeing the resemblance between Susan and the other woman.

Al nodded. "Angela Bea Cotton, Susan's fraternal twin sister. Just seeing her now makes me realize something, though."

"And that is?"

"I had met her before yesterday morning. Only, at the time that I met her, I was too drunk to realize she was actually there."

Sam exhaled at his words before standing and going over to the counter, giving the women a smile.

"Need help?" he asked Susan.

Susan looked at him with apology. "Oh, Dick! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to leave you hanging like that!" She looked around quickly. "I'll get someone to take over for a while and then we can go in the back and talk like you wanted." There was desperation in her voice as she spoke.

Sam gave her a reassuring smile, not noticing the look Angela was giving him - a look of confusion.

"It's okay," he told Susan. "No hurry."

Susan nonetheless hurried to do as she said while Sam sat at the counter to wait.

Al watched the scene with concern. "Sam, she's really scared. What probably happened in the original history is she slipped up in some way and Dick finally resorted to violence on her. The bastard." His eyes turned towards Angela to find the latter was staring at him. Not through him, as he would expect, but at him. The look she bore in her eyes was almost creepy.

"Umm… Sam. Maybe we should take care of this later," he said only to find that the scientist was already following Susan into the back room.

Angela also noticed his direction and immediately hurried to catch up. "May I come along?" she asked as Al followed her, watching her with fear and suspicion.

Susan looked at Sam with concern, hoping he wouldn't object. Sam merely nodded in response.

"Sure," he finally said, seeing the look in Al's eyes and deciding to hold off on his original plans until he had more information.

The four of them moved together into a large office that obviously doubled as a break room for the deli. Angela held back at the door and closed it while Sam and Susan went further into the room.

"I didn't keep you waiting for too long, I hope," Susan told Sam, looking at him apologetically.

Sam shook his head with a frown. "Not at all."

She sighed in relief. "I'm sorry that took so long. It gets pretty busy between classes here." She gave him a wide friendly smile and looked at

Angela. "Right, Angie?"

Angela smiled in return and went to a chair. "Sure does," she said as she sat down, looking at Sam curiously. "I don't think I've ever met you."

Susan looked at Angela, fear obvious on her face. "Oh, sure you have,

Angie. This is Dick. My fiancée. Remember?"

Sam and Al looked at Angela carefully, Sam with confusion, Al with a touch of fear.

"Sam, I don't like the look of this."

"Then why does he keep calling him Sam?" Angela questioned.

Al took a step back, shock apparent on his face. "She can see us. What the hell is going on here?"

Susan took a startled breath, staring at Angela and covering her mouth.

It was obvious that she was terrified for her sister. "Why does who keep calling him Sam, Angie?"

"Who do you think I'm talking about?" She pointed at Al. "HIM him." The look on her face turned from one of confusion to one of anger. "You've taken him back, haven't you, Susie?" She stood up and took a couple of menacing steps towards Al and Sam. "I'm never enough, am I? You have to go for other guys. First him, then Dick, now back to him and this… dweeb." She looked at Sam pointedly.

Susan marched quickly to block her path, an obvious act of courage on her part since it was obvious that Angela now frightened her more than

Dick ever did.

"That's enough," she said as firmly as she could.

Angela grabbed her wrist harshly. "It's never enough!" she shouted at her. "You just don't seem to get it! You are MY girl! No one else's!"

During the exchange, Sam and Al stared in shock at the scene before them, seeming planted firmly in their spots. However, when Angela grabbed Susan's wrist in a manner that was obviously painful for Susan,

Sam couldn't allow the abuse. He quickly pulled the two apart and pushed Angela away from Susan.

Susan glared at Sam angrily. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Sam looked at her with surprise at the anger she exhumed. "I'm trying to help."

"Help? By beating on my sister?" She went over to the fallen woman, who was now curled into a small ball, crying.

Sam looked at the scene with utter confusion. He looked at Al, hoping for answers but finding the latter as confused as he was.

Susan looked at him angrily. "Get out," she told him with tears.

"Please, just get out."

Sam hesitated, taking a step towards her. "Susan…"

She moved slightly away from him, obviously afraid of some kind of retribution. At the sight of that, Sam took a step back with his hands raised. "Okay. I'm leaving." Very slowly, he did just that, the sounds of Angela crying trailing behind him.

Once he and Al were out of the office, he turned on the Observer with confusion. "Al, what the hell just happened?"

"You're asking me? How the hell should I know?"

Sam shook his head and started through the deli to exit the building.

He didn't speak until he was out on the street. Then, walking towards

Dick's apartment, he continued, having had a little time to think of the situation.

"What does Ziggy have on Angela?" he questioned.

Al huffed at the question. "Sam, didn't you notice that she could see us? You know what that means, don't you? Either she's psychic or she's nuts!" He took a breath. "I'm voting for the latter."

Sam looked at him pointedly. "What does Ziggy have on her?" he paraphrased, this time with a firm demand in his voice.

Al exhaled and lifted the handlink. "Other than the boring statistics of where she lives, where she went to school, that sort of thing?"

Sam nodded in affirmation.

Al punched a few buttons on the handlink. "She didn't have a pleasant childhood, if that's what you want to know. Both of her foster parents were horrible to her but child services never got wind of it. We don't have much on exactly what happened in that family but, when she finally got out, whatever happened really seemed to affect the rest of her life. She never did well in college - didn't even graduate. When her sister died, she went even further into herself and became a recluse until she eventually checked herself into a psychiatric hospital where she spent eighteen years trying to cope with her sister's death."

"And then she committed suicide," Sam finished.

Al nodded slowly. "Yeah. Sam, what the hell just happened in there?

First she's calm and rational. Then, she acts like…"

"Like a jealous boyfriend," Sam supplied, realization on his face.

"Yeah," Al agreed, not seeing the look. "And then like…"

"A helpless child," Sam supplied again.

This time, Al did look at him, surprise on his face. "Am I missing something or do you know more about what's happening than I do?"

Sam rubbed his face. "It's only a theory right now but I want you to see if you can't get into Angela's psychiatric record. If I'm right, it might not have been Dick who killed Susan."

Al frowned at him. "Well, if it isn't Dick, then who the hell is it?"

Sam stopped walking and looked at Al firmly. "Angela."

Al stared at Sam with shock at those words.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Her own sister? You can't be serious!" Al exclaimed in shock of Sam's words. "The woman jumped from a skyscraper because she thought I killed

Susan and you think she may have killed her? Sam, are you listening to yourself?"

Sam looked at him firmly. "Please, Al. Just get the psychiatric record.

If I'm right, we have a much bigger problem on our hands than just Dick."

"Like what?" Al questioned with a frown.

"I think Angela has Multiple Personality Disorder," Sam told him bluntly.

Al's eyebrows rose. "She has what?"

"Multiple Personality Disorder. It's a mental dis..."

"I know what it is, Sam," Al interrupted. "So, you think maybe what we saw back there was Angela switching personalities on us?"

Sam nodded. "It's the most obvious explanation. That is unless she's pulling our legs but I don't think she is. Susan was obviously very scared for her so I doubt it's an act."

"And you think that one of her personalities could have done it," Al concluded.

Sam exhaled. "We have no proof either way. It could have been one of her personalities or it could have been Dick." He took a breath. "What does Ziggy say?"

Al raised the handlink to find the answer. "Odds are 50/50. Both odds against Susan's favor."

Sam exhaled. "Get back with Ziggy and see if she can't get anything more specific. And talk to Beeks. I want to know exactly what we are dealing with."

Al nodded with definite agreement. "You got my vote there." He opened the Imaging Chamber door. "Just be careful, Sam, because this leap…

Well, I don't even want to think what could happen with Angela being a wacko like Dick." He closed the door before Sam could comment on what he said.

---

Verbina's sleep was short. It had only been twenty minutes after Al had left her quarters when she sat up in her bed with a sudden realization.

She quickly tapped a button on her nightstand.

"Ziggy?"

"Yes, Dr. Beeks."

"Where is Admiral Calavicci?" she questioned.

"Admiral Calavicci had just exited the Waiting Room. He is about to enter the Imaging Chamber. Shall I delay him for you?"

She was out of the bed the moment Ziggy had finished her first sentence. Cursing, she quickly put on a robe and tied it. "No, let him go. I'll catch him on the way out," she said abruptly, obviously unhappy with Al. With those words, she left the quarters in a hurry, heading for the Control Room.

Therefore, when Al left the Imaging Chamber, he was greeted with a frown.

"I thought I told you to get some rest," he told Verbina, who now stood at the bottom of the ramp.

"And I thought that I told you to keep clear of the guest. You could've been killed!"

Al shook his head. "Don't exaggerate, Verbina," he told her as he walked to the control console.

She glared at him. "I am not exaggerating, Al. Mr. Anderson-Kemp is very dangerous. He has no control over his actions, Al. He is extremely volatile. His mood swings are erratic. He obviously has a poor sense of judgment and has no concept of reality as you or I would know it. We can't be sure what's going through his head only that the perception is extremely warped." She looked at him firmly. "These people don't accept responsibility for their actions, Al. I'd lay twenty dollars he blamed me for his actions," she said as if defying him to prove her wrong.

"In not so few words," Al replied after a moment.

"What did he say?"

"He said that, because you're a woman, it is your God-ordained place to be a companion to man and that you shouldn't be a psychiatrist because it distracts you from your destiny. Basically, he thinks that he was only doing what God wanted him to do as being the dominant gender of the species."

"So, he blames me and God for his actions," she summarized. "This is typical of antisocial behavior. These people usually blame someone else for their actions and usually it's the victim." She looked at him firmly. "And what the hell did you think you were trying to do in there arguing with him and being confrontational? The man's a time bomb just waiting for the opportunity to explode!"

"You could have told me that before," Al commented.

"I'm sorry but I was still in a bit of shock," she told him, not sounding in the least bit sorry. "I've never been sexually assaulted before."

Al gave her an apologetic smile before speaking again. "So, what do you suggest we do concerning him?"

"Well, first of all, no one should be in there with him, especially not you," she said with a commanding glare.

"Why not me?"

"He's already identified you as the enemy. One wrong word from you and he could go off. Believe me, Al. You may be a very well trained officer but this guy could kill you. He's crazy but he's also extremely intelligent."

Al nodded at her words. "Noted," he told her. "What else do you suggest?"

"I listened into you conversation with Sam. He thinks Angela may have

Dissociative Personality Disorder?"

Al nodded slightly. "Is that what they call it these days?" He looked at her firmly. "We both saw her switch - twice."

Verbina thought about his words. "Then I suggest you do exactly what Sam said. Get Angela's psychiatric record and let me see it. I also want to see Susan's physical and mental history."

Al frowned at that. "You think Susan's nuts too?"

"I think that there may be a chance that she has some emotional problems. She seems to rely heavily on her relationship with Dick, despite that he may be abusing her both physically and mentally. You told Sam Susan liked things kinky."

Al blinked a moment as his own words were given back to him. "Yeah, I did. But even Susan wasn't THAT kinky. She would never LIKE being abused. She was more the kind to play games with someone, lead them on and then push them away, that sort of thing."

"Sounds like she liked to emotionally abuse her dates," Verbina commented.

Al frowned at her with a hint of anger. "She wasn't like that. Believe me. I nearly married her, remember?"

Verbina took a breath with a nod. "Very well. Nonetheless, for her to remain in a relationship with a person like Dick indicates that she herself has her own emotional issues. I only want to see if we can find out why she is so attached to Dick."

Al exhaled with surrender. "I'll get her records too."

Verbina gave him a sad smile. "Thank you. I know this has to be very hard on you, Al."

Al gave her a firm look. "You have no idea."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Susan smiled as she finished taking the dirty coffee cups into the kitchen of her shop. The afternoon had been a little frightening for her but things seemed to be calming down and getting back to normal. Angela, who had recovered herself after "Dick" had left the shop, had decided to return to the apartment for some rest. Susan was grateful for that. The whole incident with "Dick" was, in her opinion, enough for anyone to lose it, especially a person with a mental handicap like Angela.

She began to wash each cup individually, just as she did every day, taking care to make sure each one was clean. When she had finished that task, she put everything in its proper place before picking up her purse to leave for the day. She was halfway to the door when the telephone rang. She sighed in frustration, tempted to just let it ring. However, she feared that it could be Angela calling for her help. She quickly went to the counter and answered the phone.

"Café Delight."

"Susan, it's S… Dick."

She frowned with a hint of anger. "What do you want?"

"Well, I… I want to apologize for what happened this afternoon. I hope you can forgive me for over-reacting to the situation."

She blinked slightly in a bit of surprise. "You're sorry?"

"Yes."

She hesitated, her eyes wide with wonder. Dick has never expressed anything but contempt for Angie, she reminded herself. Why now?

"What do you want, Dick?"

"Dinner. Just the two of us?" He paused for a moment. "I want to talk to you about how we can help your sister."

She huffed in disbelief. "You want to help Angie? How? By locking her up in a mental hospital? I told you before, Dick. I won't do it."

"No, that's not what I mean. Please, can we discuss this over dinner?"

She exhaled. "All right, Dick. Dinner it is. But if you mention anything about a hospital to me, I go out the door. You got it?"

"Deal. Pick you up at eight?"

She nodded slightly. "Sure."

"Okay." He sounded very happy with her answer. "See you tonight." With that, the line went dead as he hung up.

Susan slowly put the receiver back in its place, a curious look on her face. She was convinced that he was up to something that she wouldn't like but she also suddenly and desperately wanted to make up to him. After all, it was her sister that caused the incident. Why should Dick be apologizing when she herself should be the one doing it? It made her wonder.

At the very least, I'll get some answers, she thought as she left the delicatessen.

---

Sam stood at Susan's apartment door and rang the bell, waiting for an answer. Even though Al hadn't yet returned to tell him the information he requested, he knew that he had to keep an eye on Susan somehow and taking her out to dinner seemed to be the best way. In addition, he figured that it also would be a good way to get as much information as possible about Angela's condition from Susan, if he asked with caution.

Angela opened the door, giving him a smile.

"Hello," she told him, looking at him with tender eyes. "You must be the young man who's taking my Susan out to dinner. Oh, that is so kind of you. I worry so much that she won't ever find a nice gentleman and that scoundrel she's been dating really frightens me." She held the door open for him. "Please, come on in and take a seat and I'll let Susan know that you're here."

Sam's eyes were wide with a bit of surprise. Has to be another one of Angela's personalities, he thought with a realization. She certainly isn't acting like any of the ones that Al and I witnessed at the deli.

He obeyed the gesture to come in and sat on the couch at the insistence of the new personality.

"Susan, honey!" Angela called out towards the bedroom. "Your date is here!"

Susan came out of the bedroom, affixing an earring into its place, a look of surprise on her face. For a moment, Sam thought that he had arrived too early but then he noticed that the look was directed at Angela as she headed towards her sister.

Angela smiled at her in an almost maternal manner. "It's about time you found a truly nice man, Susan. I thought you'd never find someone suitable after you and Albert broke up. Such a wonderful man he was. So kind. You'd better hang on to this one. He's quite a catch."

Susan frowned even more at her words. "I thought you didn't like Dick."

Angela gave her a tolerant look. "Susan, honey, do you think I'm talking about that wretched excuse for a man?" Her voice got conspiratorial. "I'm talking about him." She pointed towards Sam.

Susan frowned again. "Whatever you say, Belinda," she said quietly, as if to keep Sam from hearing her.

Nevertheless, Sam did hear her, only confirming his theory that he wasn't talking to Angela but rather one of her personalities.

"Belinda" patted Susan's cheek. "Don't stay out too late. A lady doesn't do such things."

Susan smiled at her. "Yes, ma'am," she told her before going over to Sam with an indifferent look. "Shall we go?"

Sam nodded, standing up to escort her out of the apartment.

"You look very nice," he told her, noting her short sleeved blouse and plain long skirt. It would have looked too plain but Susan added just enough jewelry and other accessories to make it look very classy but simple.

"Thank you," she answered without a smile. "This isn't a date, Dick.

We're just going to talk over dinner. That's all."

Sam nodded. "Of course. But that doesn't change the way you look."

This time, she did give him a bit of a smile. "You always knew how to break the ice."

Sam gave her a smile but didn't answer as he led her to his car and opened the door for her. He then got into the driver's side and drove away from the apartment complex and towards the restaurant at which he had made reservations.

Neither said much in the car. Whenever Sam tried to speak to Susan, she reminded him that they were talking over dinner. It seemed to him as if she were afraid that he might just leave her on the side of the road with no means of transportation back to her apartment. Therefore, after a couple of attempts to start a conversation, they both remained quiet until both were seated in the restaurant.

"You said you wanted to help Angie," Susan said firmly, looking at him with suspicion. "Well, I'm listening."

Sam exhaled slowly as he sipped on his water. "Susan, Angela… is a very sick woman. She needs help."

She glared at him. "She doesn't need a mental hospital. That's what you want me to do, isn't it? You tell me it isn't but I know it is. You want her locked away!"

Sam raised his eyebrows at her vehement words. "It's not that. I promise."

"Then what is it this time?"

"She should see a psychiatrist. Go into counseling," he told her as he heard the Imaging Chamber door open.

"And they'll just recommend her being locked away," she told him with conviction. "No, thank you."

Sam sighed, giving Al a side-glance of frustration. "Are you really thinking about what is best for Angela? Or are you thinking about what you think is best for you?"

She stood up quickly. "I knew this was a mistake," she growled as she started to leave the table. At that very moment, Sam saw it. It was just above her blouse sleeve, barely hidden by the length of the sleeve. He frowned at the sight.

Al looked at her carefully, also seeing the purplish bruise on her upper right arm. "Sam, she didn't have that bruise on her arm this afternoon," he commented with concern.

Sam quickly stood up and stopped her from leaving by gently taking her forearm. "What happened to your arm?" he asked gently. Both he and Al waited for an answer.

Susan covered her bruise with her hand, not looking at him. "It's nothing. I just hit my arm against a shelf."

Al frowned, looking into her eyes. "She's lying, Sam. You don't get that kind of bruise from a knock on the arm. More like from a vicious grasp."

Sam gave him a glance, as such agreeing with him. "Susan," he said gently, taking her hand. "I know you didn't hit your arm. Who gave you that bruise?"

She pulled her hand away quickly. "Don't get into this again, Dick. It's not her fault, you know. I can handle her, like I told you before, and I'm not going to give her up to some hospital simply because you want me to."

Sam blinked for a moment, taking in all she had said. "I just don't want to see either of you get hurt."

"Well, then, stay out of my business. Okay?" she replied angrily.

"Angela and I are going to do just fine without you butting in all the time." She grabbed her purse. "You know, I should have listened to

Belinda." She glared at him. "All you care about is yourself. You don't give a damn about either me or Angie. From now on, you can stay out of my life." With that, and despite Sam's calling after her, she left the restaurant just as the waiter came up to take the order.

Sam ignored the waiter's request and started to follow her when Al stopped him.

"You can't reason with her when she's in that mood, Sam. It's impossible. She needs time to cool down."

Sam sighed in frustration. "What did you see in that woman, Al?"

Al shrugged. "What I wanted to see." As he spoke, the handlink chirped at him and he quickly took it out of his pocket and looked at it. The expression on his face was not good.

The Leaper looked at the Hologram with concern. He knew that expression well enough to know that there was something seriously wrong. He waited with his own expression of mixed emotions, most of them negative.

"The time of her death is shifting," Al continued, knowing he had Sam's attention. "We no longer can tell you when she dies."

Sam frowned. "Why not?"

Al exhaled sadly. "Because now her body isn't found for another five years when a couple of kids stumble across it about ten miles outside the city."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"What happened to her?" Sam demanded from the Observer.

Al shook his head in frustration. "I don't know. All we know is that sometime soon, Susan is going to be murdered and then dumped outside the city limits. She's reported missing by Angela tomorrow. So, obviously she dies sometime tonight but we can't tell you when."

Sam sighed, leaving the restaurant completely and starting towards Dick's car. "After what happened in there, I doubt Susan will even let me through the door."

"Probably not. But you've got to save her, Sam. And you've got to convince Angela to get psychiatric help. Otherwise, the timeline will only shift again," he told him pointedly.

Sam nodded quickly. "I will."

"How?" Al questioned.

"By going back to Susan's apartment and trying to talk to her," Sam answered as he got in the car.

---

Susan came into the apartment with a frustrated look about her, tossing her purse onto the couch and slumping into it. She just couldn't understand why Dick was so adamant about getting into her and Angela's business. She already knew what would happen to Angela if she had her see a psychiatrist - she had gone through that before - and there was no way she was going to be separated from her sister like that.

Angela came into the living room and looked at her with concern.

"What's wrong?" she asked with concern.

Susan growled a bit. "Dick. What else. That… that arrogant SOB thinks that he knows how I should handle things. Well, he's wrong."

Angela looked at her with furrowed eyebrows. "You went out with him tonight?" she questioned with a growl.

Susan looked at her. "Yes. But it's okay. No harm done."

Angela hurried over to her and grabbed her by the wrist tightly. "No, it's not okay, Susie!" she shouted at her. Angela pulled Susan off of the couch and wrapped her hands around her throat, tightening her grip. "How many times have I told you that you're my girl!"

Susan desperately tried to release the grip, gasping for air. "Michael!" she realized with a pained whisper. "Please, no!" If she had time to think, it would have amazed her how strong Angela's hands became with Michael in control of them.

Angela's mouth widened into a wicked smile. "I like it when you beg. Obviously, you keep forgetting to whom you belong. So, now it's time to give you a little reminder."

Susan struggled to break free of Michael's grasp while trying hard to speak. "Angie… don't let him…"

"Shut up!" he shouted at her. "Angela isn't here! I am! And I'm going to make sure you never go against me again!"

---

As Sam drove towards Susan's apartment, Al reviewed the information he had requested from Ziggy, using the handlink so that he didn't leave the Imaging Chamber. He had a bad feeling about the whole situation and he didn't want to leave Sam's side for a moment, just in case his instincts were right.

_Angela Bea Cotton, Al read. Born February 21st, 1953, in Charleston, NC._

_Sister: Susan Chambers. No other known living relatives. Checked herself in on April 27th, 1980. Upon admission, she was diagnosed with Multi-Personality Disorder._

_Personality #3 - Name: Michael. Age: 42. Characteristics: male with violent tendencies. He would often provoke physical confrontations with the staff. He had admitted to several acts of sexual harassment on women. Angela's psychiatrist, Dr. Robert Engalls, believed that the Michael personality was a result of suppressed memories of being sexually assaulted, probably by her foster father._

Al closed his eyes slightly as he read Angela's psychiatric report. Poor kid, he thought sadly. No wonder she was so messed up. He sighed, moving his eyes back to the first page.

_Sentenced to psychiatric therapy. See police record._

He frowned. Wait a minute! A moment ago, that read…

"Sam!" he exclaimed loudly, causing the Leaper to jerk the wheel slightly. "You've got to hurry! Susan's in trouble! Michael's got her and he's going to kill her!"

Sam pressed on the accelerator. "How long do I have?" he demanded.

"Only four minutes!" Al read with disbelief. He looked at the handlink for an estimated time of arrival. "And it'll take six at this rate! Go! Go!" he ordered.

Sam didn't need the order, racing at dangerous speeds to get to the apartment before it was too late.

---

Michael forced Susan into the kitchen, throwing her across the room and into a wall.

"I warned you, Susie, but you didn't listen. You never listen!" he shouted at her. "Why don't you listen to me!"

Susan whimpered, curling into a tight ball on the floor, obviously terrified. "Michael, please…"

"I wonder if your precious Dick will love you after I've messed up your pretty little face," he cackled as brushed a single finger across her chin.

At that moment, Al appeared, looking at the situation with horror and fear. "Oh, geezus!" He looked at Susan and saw the utter panic in her eyes. "Hang on, honey. Sam's on his way. He's coming and he'll get you out of this. He'll get you both out of this."

Susan looked at her assailant with desperation. "Angie, please!" she cried.

"Shut up!" Michael ordered. "I told you Angela isn't here! I am!" He grabbed her hair and yanked it so that it forced her head to tilt back. "I'm going to teach you, Susie. I'm going to teach you good."

Tears rolled down Susan's cheeks, mostly from the fear than from the pain the pulling of the hair brought her. "Leave Angie alone, Michael," she begged between sobs. "Get out of our lives!"

Michael slapped her hard across the face, causing Susan to scream in pain.

"Hey! Let her go, you Neanderthal!" Al shouted at him.

Michael looked at him and gave him an evil smile. "Oh, no. I've got a much better idea." He stood up, kicking Susan before taking a few steps away. He looked at Al again. "Hey, I know you," he said with a small smile. "You want a piece of this, Calavicci?"

"Al?" Susan questioned in confusion upon hearing Michael's words. She looked around desperately. "Al?" Panic filled her voice. "Help me, Al! Please!"

Al swallowed painfully, sickened by what he was witnessing and by what Michael was suggesting. Susan's plea for help only made the pain more severe.

"Hang on, honey," Al said carefully. "Just hang on."

Michael laughed as he grabbed a large knife from the kitchen counter. "Yeah. Hang on to your seat. It's going to be a bumpy night." He laughed wickedly as he put the knife under Susan's chin.

Al looked at the situation with trepidation. "Susan, just tell him anything! Just get the hell away from him! Damn it, Sam! Where the hell are you!"

Tears streamed down Susan's face. "Please, Angie. Come back," she whispered between sobs. "Come back."

Michael moved the knife further in, causing it to draw a little blood from the underside of her chin. "Stand up," he ordered.

Susan obeyed slowly. "Please, Michael. Don't hurt me. Please," she whispered with desperation. "I'll do anything you want. Just don't hurt me."

Al closed his eyes at the plea. He had always seen Susan as being strong-willed. It pained him to see her so completely terrified as to lose hold of her emotions.

"Hang on, honey. Sam!" he shouted loudly, praying that Sam was close enough to hear his yell.

Michael laughed. " 'Don't hurt me'," he mimicked. He gave her a firm look of determined hatred. "I told you I was going to teach you a lesson, Susie. And school starts right now."

"NO!" Al screamed as the knife went into Susan's chest, his own voice nearly drowned out by Susan's scream of pain. He watched helplessly as the stabbing continued. He didn't even move as Sam hurried into the room and pulled Michael off of Susan, punching him hard and knocking the feminine body unconscious.

"Susan!" Sam exclaimed, hurrying to the bleeding form on the floor.

Susan lay still, almost catatonic and in obvious shock. "Al," she whispered painfully.

The sound of his name shocked the Admiral from his own near catatonic state. He knelt beside Susan as Sam checked her wounds and applied pressure with a clean kitchen towel.

"Damn," Sam muttered in frustration and anger. "There's too much bleeding." He grabbed Susan's hand and forced her to hold the towel to her chest. "Hold that there and lay still. I'm calling for help." He quickly looked at Al and swallowed what he was going to say. The Admiral was looking at Susan with great concern. There was no need to tell him to stay with her. Without a word, Sam hurried around the corner to the nearest telephone.

"Al," Susan whispered again, pain obvious on her face. "Al, why didn't you help? I begged for your help but you let him do this. Why?"

Al swallowed. Oh, gawd! She can see me! He knew from a previous experience that that could mean only one thing: Susan was going to die.

"Hang on, Susan. Please, hang on."

Angela's eyes fluttered open as Al spoke. She slowly stood and stared at the sight: her sister clinging to life while Susan's ex-fiancé watched without lending a hand.

"You've killed me, Al," Susan whispered painfully. "Gawd, how could you?

How could you?" Her eyes slowly closed as Sam quickly returned to the kitchen.

"Susan," he ordered quietly but firmly. "Don't give up on me. Come on. Open your eyes, Susan."

Al's voice was quiet when he spoke. "She's dead, Sam."

Sam checked for a pulse, hoping to negate Al's statement only to confirm it. He stood slowly and stepped away from the limp form and from the Admiral who continued to kneel beside it.

"You bastard!"

Sam quickly turned towards Angela to see that he was not the focus of her anger. She was looking directly at Al, who seemed a little too willing to take her verbal abuse. Sam could see the hurt in Al's eyes and it made him afraid for his friend's sanity.

Angela hurried to her sister and took her into her arms. "Suz," she whispered between tears of sorrow. She glared at Al angrily. "You murdering bastard! Get out!"

Al stood and took a couple of steps back, a frightful look on his face. "I…"

"GET OUT!" Angela screamed at him. "Both of you! Just get out!"

Al turned quickly around and marched out of the kitchen, pressing buttons as he marched. Sam followed quickly, calling out his name, only to watch him disappear behind the Imaging Chamber door.

Sam sighed with sorrow and concern, anger and self-defeatism. Never before had he felt so utterly devastated by failure in completing his mission, in failing to save a life. So, it was with these horrible self-deprecating feelings that Sam disappeared in a flash of blue light.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Al hadn't stopped in his march as he passed through the Control Room, tossing the handlink haphazardly towards the console and missing it completely. Guilt was a powerful thing to contend with, especially for him right at that moment. He couldn't get the image from his mind, the image of a different yet similar woman lying in that same position, bleeding, saying those same words to him.

_You've killed me, Al. Gawd, how could you? How could you?_

The moment he entered his office, Al locked the door. The last thing he needed was Verbina Beeks asking him questions he didn't want to answer. He didn't want to tell her that it wasn't Susan Chambers he saw dying on that kitchen floor; it was Beth, the woman who haunted his dreams from time to time since he returned from Vietnam.

He sat at his desk, his head in his hands, thinking and trying to reestablish some sense of control.

One: that was not Beth, no matter how much she looked like Beth. Two: no matter what she said, you didn't kill her. Three: there was nothing you could do to stop it so get a grip on yourself.

"Admiral," Ziggy's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Al exhaled. He still hadn't found stability yet so he was unprepared to talk to a computer with far too much of his own ego.

"Yes, Ziggy," he answered after a long moment.

"Dr. Beckett has made an arrival."

Al frowned slightly. "So soon? Are you sure?"

"I do not make errors in regards to this subject, Admiral."

Al huffed at the response as he stood up and started for the door, putting on the face of confidence expected from an Admiral in the United States Navy. "Okay. Give it to me: five Ws and an H."

"I do not believe that you will be pleased with the answer, Admiral,"

Ziggy warned from the wristband on Al's right wrist.

Al continued to walk towards the Control Room as he spoke. "Since when did that make a difference with a leap?"

"Since Dr. Beckett had leaped into Detective Jake Rawlins on April 1st,

1969."

Al frowned at that response as well. "Old news, Ziggy. Spill the new news."

"Very well, Admiral. Dr. Beckett has leaped into Lieutenant Commander

Albert Anthony Calavicci on July 19th, 1976."

Al didn't speak for a moment. "What?" he finally asked with a whisper.

"Do you wish me to repeat the information, Admiral?"

Al took another moment of quiet. "No. No," he told her. "H-How is the guest?"

"He is having great difficulty adjusting to his new environment. It is apparent that he believed he is a prisoner of war."

Al took a shaky breath. "Oh, my gawd!" he whispered. "Has Dr. Beeks been in to see him?"

"Negative, Admiral," Ziggy replied. "However, she is currently proceeding to the Waiting Room."

"Stop her," Al ordered. "Believe me, the last person the guest wants to see is someone who even resembles a doctor. Have her meet me in my office and send a corporal into the Waiting Room. At least then he'll know he's not with the enemy."

"Any instructions for the corporal, Admiral?"

"Only to watch him and to address him by his rank."

"Affirmative, Admiral. Dr. Beeks is going to your office at this moment."

"Good," Al said as he stepped off of the elevator and marched towards his office. "Have her wait there." He stepped into the Control Room and grabbed a handlink from the Control Console.

"You are not going to your office, Admiral?" Ziggy questioned.

"Believe me, Sam needs me far worse right now than Beeks." With no further explanation, he marched into the Imaging Chamber and into a past he wished he could forget.

---

They were relentless in their attack on his frail body. The sound of the bamboo chute on his back echoed in his mind despite that there should be no echo.

He wanted to scream, to beg for mercy, but somehow he knew his screams would only result in harsher strikes on him and that was precisely what they wanted. He would not get mercy from them; the only mercy would come from blissful unconsciousness.

So, that was what he was going to do. He was going to let them beat him into unconsciousness. Yet, despite his intentions, he did scream as a torturous blow struck his back. He could not stop the scream; the pain was just too horrible.

"Stop! Gawd, stop! Why are you doing this to me?"

They laughed wickedly and continued.

"They're not going to stop, not after you've given them what they wanted. If you give a mouse a cookie, he'll want a glass of milk."

The voice was familiar. He looked around to find the source of it.

"Where are you? Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter here. You're going to die here in this horrible jungle. You're never going to see your loved ones again."

Another painful red stripe adorned his back.

"You're going to die here, Albert Calavicci, so you might as well hurry up and do it!

He sat up quickly as he screamed in terror, sweat streaming down his face.

"It's okay. I'm right here."

It was the same voice but, this time, it wasn't vicious or angry. Instead, it was kind, gentle, and full of concern.

"You're okay. You're safe. No one is going to hurt you here. Do you hear me? Do you understand? Come on, Sam. Talk to me."

The memories started to fill in quickly. Names. Faces. Smells.

Experiences. It wasn't everything but it was enough for him to regain a sense of who he really was.

"Al?" he asked with a bit of trepidation.

"It's okay, Sam. You were having a dream."

Sam looked at his partner with a frown. "It… it seemed so real."

Al exhaled. "Yeah. They usually do. But it's over now. Life goes on."

"I… I heard your voice," Sam continued. "It was angry… mean. You were telling me to give up but you called me…" He looked at the Admiral.

"I've leaped into you, haven't I? What year is this?"

"1976," Al answered softly. "I'm… I mean I was… still suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Guess you leaped in while I was having one of my nightmares."

Sam winced at the memory of the nightmare. "Please tell me they were exaggerated."

Al hesitated before he shook his head. "I wish I could say they were."

Sam stifled a cry of sorrow and looked at his friend. "Gawd, how did you do it for six years?"

Eight, Al corrected mentally but said nothing. In his opinion, those extra two years were worth the memories of Tom Beckett, Tom's wife, and their children, causing the original memories to dissipate – the memories of Sam drowning out his sorrow for the loss of his brother.

"I did what I had to do," Al told him, fully realizing the duel meaning of his words: both his survival in Vietnam and his sacrificing his freedom for Tom' Beckett's life.

He looked into Sam's eyes and saw the pain. He saw the lost look of a soul that was about to crack. Gawd, it must have been a really bad nightmare. For him, anyway. He wanted to rub Sam's back, to give him that physical comfort he knew from experience would help to relieve the terror and the sorrow. Instead, he gave a gentle, kind smile.

"You doing okay, Sam?" he asked, giving the latter an open invitation to talk.

"W-What am I here to do?" Sam asked, avoiding the question.

Al nodded, understanding the sentiment all too well. Deny it and bury it. It was a familiar act to him, an act that drove him to drinking. But he knew Sam. He would talk eventually and, although Sam could drink with the best of them, he wouldn't let it control his life.

"We don't have any information yet. When I heard that you had leaped into me in 1976, I had to hurry to check on you. This wasn't exactly the best time in my life," Al told Sam firmly.

Sam thought about the nightmare he had just experienced. It haunted him greatly and he knew he couldn't possibly understand how such a nightmare could effect his host, the man who now stood by his side twenty-three years in the future.

"How is he?" he asked.

Al didn't need to ask to which "he" Sam was referring.

"No one's been in to see him yet but that's only because he needs a little time to acclimate to his surroundings. But I can tell you that he's probably scared and extremely suspicious. I had a corporal go into the Waiting Room, just so he knows that we're not VC."

Sam exhaled sadly. "So, until you have some idea of why I've leaped into you, what do I do?"

Al looked at him with sad firmness. "Stay home and drink until you pass out."

Sam looked at him, at first with question and then with sympathy.

"That's what you did?"

Al nodded. "More times than I care to remember."

Sam stood up quickly, looking around at his surroundings as he spoke.

"Well, I'm not you."

"Thank God for that."

Sam turned his head quickly towards Al at the comment before taking a breath. "Any other suggestions?"

Al shook his head a bit. "Do whatever you want but try not to go out. I didn't and, even though you're stone-cold sober, you look like you've spent the night and day in a drinking binge."

Sam nodded with understanding but said nothing as Al opened the Imaging

Chamber door.

"I'll be back as soon as I can, Sam," Al told him with caring eyes before he stepped through the door and disappeared into the future.

Sam, meanwhile, headed for the bathroom for a much needed and wanted shower.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

He awoke, panting heavily and swallowing the scream that threatened to leave his lips. The dreams, or rather nightmares, were usually bad but this one was exceedingly so. The voice had returned - that evil sound that ordered him to surrender to the peaceful bliss of death. But this time, it wasn't talking to him; it was talking to an innocent, a person who couldn't possibly know what real pain was.

The man, who was stretched painfully tight in what seemed like a vertical iron maiden, was being horribly beaten and was struggling not to scream out. The dreamer watched in horror as the man slowly collapsed emotionally with every strike as the voice ordered him to die. The dreamer recognized the man as someone he had seen before, someone who had helped him, and he was determined to return the favor.

"Leave him alone!" he ordered the soldiers striking the man. "He's done nothing wrong! Hell, he isn't even a prisoner! You want to beat someone into oblivion? Take me!"

The voice laughed slightly. "Sorry, kid, but he has to endure this in order to continue."

"What the hell are you talking about? Continue what?"

"What he must do."

At that point, the man screamed and the dreamer screamed with him as he woke with terror.

"Commander, are you okay?"

Lieutenant Commander Calavicci blinked, trying to regain his composure and his bearings. He looked around to find not his bedroom but rather a large blue room with seemingly only one door. A Marine corporal stood near the door, apparent professional concern on his face.

"Commander?" the Corporal questioned, looking at Al.

Al blinked his eyes again. "Yes, Corporal?"

"Are you okay, sir?"

Al thought about the question for a moment. "Yes, I think so." He looked around again. He could swear he recognized the room he was in and yet he was also almost certain that it wasn't like any military base he had ever seen. In fact, it didn't look like a base at all - more like a mental hospital.

The thought terrified him. Had he finally lost it? After nine years of being in the middle of a war, was it the peace that finally caused his mind to crack like an egg?

"Where am I?" he questioned abruptly, desperate for answers.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot tell you that. My orders are to see to your physical comfort but nothing more," the Corporal replied.

"What's your name?" Al asked.

"I am not authorized to give any information, sir."

Al exhaled in frustration. "Terrific. Then who the hell can give me information?"

The Corporal didn't give an answer.

"I asked you a question, Corporal," Al emphasized, standing toe to toe with the subordinate.

"Yes, sir. You did. However, my orders haven't changed, sir."

Al tried to step around the Corporal to exit but failed miserably as the Corporal block his every move.

"Dammit! I want answers and I want them now!" he shouted at the guard. "Who the hell is in charge here and where the hell am I?"

"As far as you are concerned, you are safe," someone said from behind, "and I am in charge."

Al looked towards the source of the feminine voice to see a beautiful black woman, dressed simply and elegantly in a pale red dress and shoes, her hair up in a flattering loose bun. He smiled a bit at the sight.

"Who are you?" he asked gently.

She returned the smile. "My name's Verbina."

Al took a step towards her, the slight smile still on his face. He extended his hand. "Hello, Verbina. What a lovely name."

Verbina politely shook his hand but then gently released it. "Cool your jets, sailor," she told him with a smile. "The Calavicci charm doesn't work on me."

Al took a step back at her words, only then realizing that he couldn't remember his own name. "Calavicci," he repeated the name, knowing it was his but also knowing it was seemingly new to him. "Gawd, I can't remember my name!" He ran his fingers through his hair and walked away from Verbina, his attempt to seduce her far from his mind.

Verbina approached him with sympathy. "It's okay. The gaps in your memory will fill in with time."

Al turned around and looked at her carefully. "You mean you expected this?" He frowned. "Where am I and what the hell is going on here?"

Verbina hesitated a moment before turning to the guard. "You're excused, Corporal."

"Ma'am, Admiral…"

"The Admiral is not in charge here," Verbina interrupted quickly. "If you have a problem with my order, take it up with the Admiral. Meanwhile, you're excused."

The Corporal looked from Verbina to Al and back. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, immediately leaving the room.

She turned her attention back to Al, taking a breath. "This may be unbelievable for you but you're not in North Carolina anymore."

Al gave her a sarcastic look. "No shinola!"

Verbina smiled. Some things never change. "In fact, you're not in 1976 anymore."

Al huffed. "Let me guess. I'm forty years into the future and this is some kind of top secret project."

Verbina tilted her head a bit, slightly surprised by his answer. "Actually, it's more like twenty years but, other than that, you're correct."

Upon her words, Al stared at her. "You're kidding."

She shook her head.

He hesitated. "You mean to say that what happened twenty years ago… when I was an ensign… it wasn't a dream? I was actually…"

She nodded. "For us, it was only a few months ago. Actually, I'm surprised you even remember it."

He shook his head. "Damn, this is confusing." He quickly sat on the table, thinking about her words. As he did so, a feminine voice filled the room from every direction.

"Dr. Beeks."

Al jumped at the sound, searching the room for the source before looking at Verbina.

"Go ahead, Ziggy," she answered the voice, a hint of annoyance in her voice.

"You're a doctor?" Al queried before a realization came to him. "You're a shrink, aren't you?"

She didn't have an opportunity to answer as Ziggy replied.

"The Admiral has left the Imaging Chamber and is waiting for you in the

Control Room. He is quite upset."

Verbina exhaled. "I'll be right there." She turned to Al. "Excuse me a moment, Commander."

"Hold it!" he ordered, standing and glaring at her as she obeyed. "Who the hell are you? What is this really? Some kind of sick psychological experiment to see how far I've finally cracked?"

Verbina frowned at him. "Al…"

He pointed at her angrily. "Don't call me that! You don't know me!"

She took a breath, holding her response. "We'll talk when I return." She left quickly, leaving the Commander glaring at her angrily.

The general situation, however, didn't improve when she left. Standing at the bottom of the Waiting Room's ramp was Admiral Al, looking at her with the same glare Commander Al had given her.

"Hold back your lecture, Al. I know what you are going to say," Verbina told him as she approached him.

"Do you now?" Al asked sarcastically. "Then perhaps you also know why I ordered for you to not enter the Waiting Room until we talked."

She looked at him firmly. "He's suffering from PTSD."

Al paused at her words, his anger dissipating with them. "Exactly. And he doesn't exactly trust psychiatrists, no matter how attractive they are."

She gave him a gentle smile of thanks for the compliment. "I'll be careful, Al. I promise. But I didn't think it would be good for him to be alone. What if he has a bad episode while he is here? Would you prefer he handle it alone or with someone who cares?"

"He would prefer to handle it alone," he answered.

"I didn't ask that, Al. You are twenty years older and wiser. If you knew then what you know now, what would you have preferred?"

Al didn't answer for a moment. "Just don't spook him out, okay? He's going through a hard enough time as it is."

She smiled. "You know me, Al. Mrs. Cautious."

Al merely shook his head as he walked over to the control console.

"Anything, Gushie?" he asked as he placed the handlink back into its proper container.

Gushie shook his head. "Not yet, Admiral. Ziggy's still working on it."

"Well, let me know when she has something," Al told him briskly before leaving the Control Room quickly and silently.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

_In all the leaps I had made, I had only leaped into a previous host once before. Now I had done it again and, like the previous time, it was into someone for whom I cared greatly._

_I had known Al for years, had even called him my best friend. But for all the years I had known him, nothing prepared me for the reflection in the bathroom mirror. Twenty years before, Al had been a fun-loving, free rascal who looked forward to his future as a naval aviator. In 1976, Bingo was gone, replaced with a war-torn man who had lost his only reason for living: the only woman he ever really loved, his first wife, Beth. Even after a decent hot shower, a shave, and a change of clothes, the reflection still showed the days and nights this Al had spent drinking his problems temporarily away. And even though I knew Al would eventually "straighten up and fly right", seeing him in this state broke my heart. I knew I had to do something to give him the life he missed because of his drinking. I just wasn't sure how._

There was a knock on the door, bringing Sam out of his reflections on the reflection before him. The sound had surprised him greatly, given what Al has told him of how his host had been spending his days alone and at home.

Sam slowly approached the door before opening it. The sight before him put him in utter silence. He wondered how Al reacted to this sight in the original history, if he had been sober enough to open the door in the first place. Whatever the answer to his wondering, Sam had his own reaction - he stared in amazement.

Susan Chambers smiled at him, looking more like Beth Calavicci than she would in four years. It was no wonder Al had fallen for her.

"Mr. Calavicci?" she asked, sounding uncertain.

Sam didn't answer immediately, thinking about the way she spoke. It was obvious that the two hadn't yet met. Was he here to prevent them from meeting? He was surprised - and saddened - by what he could suddenly remember from his last leap.

"Yes," he finally answered, knowing he should at least be courteous to her.

Susan seemed pleased with the response. "Oh, good. I was afraid I had the wrong apartment. My assistant usually does the deliveries but he's sick today so it's up to me. Now, I know you asked not to be disturbed but I try to meet my customers." She extended her hand. "I'm Susan Chambers."

Sam shook her hand carefully, hoping he was doing the right thing. "Al

Calavicci," he introduced. He frowned a bit in confusion to what she said earlier. "Deliveries?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed. She raised a brown paper bag and handed it to him.

"I'm sorry. Here you are. I'll have Tom bring up the bill later."

Sam accepted the bag and looked in it with interest to find two heavily loaded turkey sandwiches - extra mustard, his mind supplied - and two bags of potato chips. Obviously his lunch. He looked in the bag again. And dinner. He looked at Susan again.

"Thank you," he told her graciously.

She gave him a wide smile. "You're welcome."

The two stared at each other a moment, neither knowing what to do next.

Sam was certain that he had to keep Susan from leaving - or not - but he wasn't sure how to keep her from doing so.

Susan spoke first. "I should be going now. Work to do, you know."

Sam nodded in response.

"So," she continued. "Maybe I'll see you later."

He nodded again. "That would be nice."

She smiled at him before walking down the hall, away from the small apartment.

Sam closed the door, thinking about the encounter. Was this the way Al met Susan? If it wasn't before, it was now and Sam was at a complete loss on what to do, besides eat Al's sandwiches.

------------------

Susan Chambers was also at a loss on what to do. She hadn't expected to see the thin, lost face on the other side of that apartment door. Al Calavicci seemed like such a lost soul, not at all like the Lieutenant Commander she had expected to see. In fact, he looked as if it had taken a lot for him just to shower and shave this morning. His blood-shot eyes indicated to her that sobriety wasn't very common for him. Yet, when he looked at her, there was the gleam of recognition in his eyes.

Had me met before? she wondered, immediately answering "no" to the question. So, there had to be another reason for that look. She pondered it as she returned to the car. I must remind him of someone. Someone he cared about? Someone he… loved? It seemed the only answer, in her opinion, and that caused her heart to go out to him. Something terrible had to have happened to cause him to be in his condition – something which broke his heart, something which had to do with whoever she reminded him of.

It was amazing how attractive a hurt soul could be.

------------------

Al had spent house in his office, reflecting on the past, trying to see how Sam's leaping into Lt. Comdr. Calavicci was going to save Susan's life. He was also trying to sort the new memories that came whenever Sam changed history even a little bit.

In the original history, he hadn't opened the door. In fact, he had been too hungover to even hear the knock on the door, much less to take a shower. In the original history, he hadn't met Susan until a week later when, in a near fit, she stormed to his apartment to demand payment for the bill she had given him. He had nearly died when he first saw her and, moments later, he was crying in her arms, telling her everything about Beth. They had spent the entire day talking about each others' woes.

Now that the memories were shifting around, Al could even remember Susan mentioning she had a relative with some emotional problems and she was uncertain whether to place her in a mental hospital. Al had talked her out of it, thoughts of Trudy, his only sister, in his head.

He sat up at the thought. That has to be it. If Angela went to a hospital now then she'll have had treatment and she won't kill Susan during a DPD episode. Was it really that simple? Something told him that it probably wasn't. Sam's failed leaps had a tendency to be harder the second time around. Still, if there was a chance that it could work…

"Ziggy," Al said to the nothingness of his office as he stood. "Have

Gushie bring the Imaging Chamber online."

"Affirmative, Admiral," the computer replied. "May I assume you have a reasonable theory as to why Dr. Beckett has leaped into 1976?"

Al walked out his office door as he spoke. "What are the chances that

Sam's there to make sure Angela Cotton gets psychiatric help now rather than forty years from now?"

"Forty-eight point ninety-four percent, Admiral."

Al frowned. "Only forty-nine percent? Why so low?"

"Forty-eight point ninety-four percent, Admiral," Ziggy corrected. "It is highly unlikely that Dr. Beckett can convince Susan Chambers or

Angela Cotton that the latter should be institutionalized. Susan allowed Angela to make the final decision concerning her mental health."

"The hell with a mental hospital, Ziggy," Al told her as he entered the

Control Room. "How about just getting her some professional help?"

"I did calculate that possibility as well, Admiral. I'm afraid the results are the same. It is unlikely that Dr. Beckett can have an impact on Angela's decision to refuse treatment for her condition."

"Well, then, what the hell is he there for?" Al yelled in frustration.

"There is a seventy-one point thirty-eight percent chance that Dr.

Beckett must make certain that you marry Susan Chambers."

Al glared at the globe that dangled from the ceiling, the instrument that the general population of the project considered as Ziggy. "Me marry Susan?" He shook his head. "I don't think so."

"I fail to see why," Ziggy replied. "By marrying Susan Chambers, you will be providing yourself with a stabilizing factor to help you overcome the PostTraumatic Stress you were afflicted with in 1976. In addition, you will be able to prevent Susan Chambers' death in 1980."

Al picked up a handlink. "You can't factor out human emotions, Ziggy.

Did you factor in the fact that Susan looks like Beth?"

"I believe Miss Chambers' resemblance to your first wife will be an additional stabilizing factor."

Al pointed angrily at the globe. "Well, factor this in! I don't want

Susan to be one of my ex-wives and I certainly don't want to marry someone simply because she looks like Beth. It is not an option.

Period." He marched towards the Imaging Chamber door.

"May I at least suggest that you inform Dr. Beckett of my conclusions and your concerns?"

Al ignored the computer as he entered the Imaging Chamber.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

The sandwiches and chips were gone. The apartment had been cleaned and organized. Hours had passed since Susan had appeared at the door. As a result, Sam found himself spending the rest of his time watching television and waiting for his partner.

The news was full of recaps of the bicentennial celebrations that had occurred earlier that month and that were still continuing. Sam didn't recall any kind of celebrations in July of 1976. He had been absorbed in his studies while, at the same time, working full-time in a laboratory, making his name known the world over. He had had little interest in the frivolities of the year.

"I don't remember any of this either, if that's any consolation."

Sam forced himself not to jump at the voice, thankful to hear it after so many hours.

"How's Bingo?" he asked with concern.

Al accepted the nickname readily, knowing it would help prevent confusion with nouns and pronouns.

"He doesn't go by 'Bingo' anymore," Al told Sam, just for knowledge sake. "Verbina's with him now, trying to convince him that psychiatrists are not the enemy."

Sam gave him a sad smile. It didn't really surprise him. Al had never been very trusting of psychiatrists until he met Verbina Beeks and, even then, he tended to keep his personal life very personal. The only times he ever went to Verbina was when something was seriously bothering him.

"Do you think that she'll have any luck with him?"

Al shrugged. "I don't know. I hope so."

Sam nodded a bit in agreement. If anyone needed help, it was Al Calavicci during this time of his life.

"So, has Ziggy figured out what I'm here to do?"

Al hesitated. "Well, she has a theory but she's completely off the mark this time."

Sam finally looked at Al, questioning in his eyes. "Why? What does she say?"

"She says you're here to get me to marry Susan," Al answered with a bit of a sneer.

"And what's wrong with that?"

The Admiral looked at Sam firmly. "I don't want to marry her, Sam. It would be a mistake for me to marry her."

"Why?" Sam asked bluntly.

"Because she looks like Beth!" Al exclaimed as if it were obvious. "It wouldn't be fair to her if I married her, Sam. I don't want to marry someone just because she looks like the woman I married before."

Sam looked at him carefully. "Is that really the reason? Or is it because you're afraid of the truth?"

"What truth?" Al challenged him.

Sam gave him a sympathetic look. "That you really were in love with

Susan."

Al frowned. "That's ridiculous, Sam." The expression that he could not keep from his eyes, however, said otherwise.

"Then, what do you think I here to do?"

"To get Angela some professional help." Al told him firmly. "She's a sick woman, Sam. And Susan knows it."

Sam stood and looked at Al firmly. "Wouldn't you marrying Susan contribute to that?"

"No, it wouldn't," Al insisted. "Sam, I had talked Susan out of putting Angela in a hospital where she belongs. I was blinded by my own experiences concerning Trudy. If anything, it will keep Angela from getting any therapy at all."

Sam continues to look carefully at Al, looking into those brown eyes that could not keep the truth from him.

"You still love Susan, don't you?"

"What?"

"You still love Susan. You claim you almost married her because she reminded you of Beth but that isn't the entire truth. Is it?"

Al glared at him. "Sam, listen to me, will you? I didn't really love

Susan. I loved Beth and Susan was just a convenient replacement to me."

Sam shook his head. "I don't believe you. I can see it in your eyes, Al.

Susan was more than just a replacement. You loved her. So, why didn't you marry her?"

Al avoided Sam's gaze. "How many times do I have to tell you that I didn't marry her because she looked…"

"Al," Sam interrupted him. "Try looking into my eyes and saying that."

Al focused on his eyes as requested. "I didn't marry Susan because…" He stopped, apparently unwilling to go further.

"Because…" Sam pressured firmly yet gently.

Al diverted his eyes quickly, focusing on inputting the exiting sequence into the handlink. He ignored Sam's requests that he stay and talk, stepping through the Imaging Chamber door and into his present.

Sam nodded slightly at Al's Actions, knowing that they meant Sam had hit the mark. Al was indeed still in love with Susan. However, there was something plaguing Al about his relationship with her, something he obviously deeply regretted. Sam was certain that Al would tell him soon, hopefully before Sam changed Al's history. The one thing Sam didn't want to do was to change his best friend's life for the worst.

------------------

The moment Al stepped out of the Imaging Chamber, he marched to the peaceful quiet of Sam's office. He knew it was the only place he would truly be able to be alone. No one else ever went there. Even he didn't dare go into the scientist's office unless he really really wanted to be alone. The office was often far too depressing. It was a reminder of how long Sam had been away from his home in the future - far too long, in Al's opinion.

He wanted Sam home. He wanted him to be sitting on the other side of the desk, listening to him, drinking with him, and sobering him up the next day if necessary. Somehow, Al felt he couldn't talk to Sam like he once did across the wooden desk in this office. It just wasn't the same.

Al sat in the chair he had sat in so many times before and looked across at the empty chair on the other side of the desk.

"You're right, kid," he told the chair, or rather to the presence he still felt that sat in that chair. "I still love her. Now, what the hell do I do about it?"

It was amazing how horribly love could hurt a regretful soul.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Lt. Cmdr. Calavicci was having trouble sleeping. Despite medical orders from Verbina Beeks to take the sedatives that she had given him, he had refused to take them. Not that he didn't trust her. Over the past few hours, he found that he trusted her a great deal, at least far more than he had ever trusted any psychiatrist. Perhaps it was because she seemed honest in her concern for him, that she really did want to help him the way a good friend wants to help.

No, Cmdr. Calavicci did trust Verbina Beeks and the sedatives she had given him. He just didn't like sedatives in general. They meant losing control, something he didn't want. He needed control. The last time he had lost control, it had nearly destroyed him. The VC had nearly won.

Besides, in his experience, all that sedatives did was delay the inevitable: sleepless nights with nightmares too realistic for comfort.

A night without those nightmares was a pleasant thought but he knew that the nightmares would return stronger than ever once he stopped taking the sedatives. It was better for him not to take them in the first place.

"Can't sleep?"

Al jumped at the voice despite being used to it.

"Sorry," Verbina told him, walking closer to him slowly. She noticed the small paper cup in which she had placed the sedatives, the two pills still in their place. "You didn't take the pills," she said matter-of-factly.

"You don't sound surprised," Al commented, sitting on the table in the room.

Verbina smiled at him. "I'm not. But I had hoped that you would take them. I know you've been having trouble sleeping."

Al huffed a bit. "There's an understatement." He rubbed his hands through his hair, trying to block the memories.

Verbina gently took his hands, knowing what his actions meant. "Don't, Al. Please."

He looked at her with question. "Don't what?"

"Blocking them isn't going to help you heal," she told him gently.

"How did you…"

"I know you, remember?" she pointed out. "Certainly the Al I know is older but he's still you. And I know that, if you don't deal with this now, it will haunt you for years."

He pulled his hand away. "They're going to haunt me anyway. There is no way you, me, or anyone else can make the memories disappear forever. They are just some things you can't forget, even if you want to."

Verbina nodded. "I understand."

Al shook his head. "No, you don't. And I pray to God, if He even cares, that you never do."

"You have no faith in God," she surmised.

"He's given me no reason to have faith in Him. Sometimes I wonder whether I'm being heroic of cowardly by not committing suicide."

His frank statement startled her. Of all the things she imagined Al Calavicci to have been when he was younger, suicidal had not even occurred to her.

"You've thought about it, though," she said for confirmation.

Al frowned at her. "You're starting to sound like a shrink again."

Verbina gave him a small smile meant to reassure. "It's a tough habit to break when you make your living that way. I hope you don't think it means that I'm being cold and inconsiderate."

Al stood up and began to pace. "You're just asking me…" He exhaled. "I'm just not ready to talk about it, that's all."

Verbina nodded slowly. "Then how about talking about Susan Chambers?"

"Who?" he questioned with a frown.

"She owns the delicatessen you order lunch from every day."

He still looked a bit confused.

Verbina cringed internally at what she was about to say. "She bears a striking resemblance to Beth."

Al froze in his spot, turning his head slowly towards her with an intense glare.

"Get out," he growled after a moment.

Verbina stood her ground. "Al, I think we should talk about this."

He stormed towards her. "I said, get the hell out! Leave me alone!" His voice was fierce but not anyway as fierce as the once of his older, more experienced self. Therefore, the loud, harsh order didn't phase her in the least.

She stood up nose to nose with him. "No," she said calmly. "We are going to discuss this, Commander, whether you like it or not because, whether you like it or not, this discussion may affect the rest of your life! Now, sit down, calm down, and start talking!"

Al stared at her, surprised by her firmness.

"Sit," Verbina repeated her order firmly.

Al obeyed reluctantly, exhaling in frustration and surrender. "What do you want to know?"

"You know her," Verbina stated more than asked.

Al shook his head. "I wouldn't say that."

"Then what would you say?"

He took a thoughtful moment. "I know of her. I know enough about her to…" He trailed off, afraid to go further.

"To know that you love her?" Verbina suggested.

Al glared at her. "It isn't love."

She smiled at him, seeing the truth in his dark eyes. "Yes, it is.

You're in love with her but you're afraid."

He laughed. It was a mirthless laugh, more scared than amused. Could she really read him that easily?

"Afraid?" he questioned, trying to sound incredulous.

She nodded. "Afraid. You're afraid that, if you have a relationship with her, it would be based on her resemblance to your ex-wife."

"Was it?" Al asked.

"You tell me," Verbina replied.

He glared at her. "You know I don't have an answer to that. How can I? I haven't even asked her out!"

"Yet."

"Yet?"

Verbina nodded.

Al frowned. "You're going to have that guy ask her out for me, aren't you?"

"Yes," she answered bluntly.

Al exhaled in frustration and resignation. "Guess I don't have a choice in the matter, do I?"

Verbina gave him a gentle smile. "We're only doing what you would have done anyway."

"So, I did ask her out," he concluded.

She nodded again. "Yes."

He looked at her with curiosity. "Then what is he doing in my life if he's doing exactly what I did in the first place."

"He's there to keep you from making a serious mistake," she told him.

"And that is?"

"You left her."

He exhaled. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe we weren't meant to be together?"

Verbina smiled. "Yes."

"And?"

"As far as we can tell, things would have turned out worse."

He laughed sickly. "How worse can it get?"

Verbina shook her head. "You don't want to know."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

"Hi."

Susan turned around at the voice, trying to pick out the speaker from the small crowd of students and teachers in her small deli. It wasn't difficult. The man in question had a unique look about him. She smiled at him as she laid down a coffee for one of her patrons.

"Hello, Mr. Calavicci. This is an unexpected surprise."

He smiled at her. "Yeah. Well, I figured I might as well eat here for a change. Besides, I owe you money. Right?"

She laughed a bit. "You don't have to worry about that yet, Mr.

Calavicci."

"Al," he corrected.

Susan nodded with acknowledgement. "So, what can I get for you today,

Al? The usual?"

"Actually, I was thinking of having something different. Any suggestions?"

"Well," Susan replied with a thoughtful look. "I make a mean chicken salad sandwich."

He smiled and laughed. "Sounds good to me."

"Coming right up, then." She turned away to put the sandwich together.

Sam took a breath as he sat at the counter. He still wasn't sure of everything on this leap yet but he was sure of one thing. Both Al and

Ziggy were right about why he was here. He just wasn't sure he was doing it the right way.

"So, tell me the truth," Susan commented after a moment. "You didn't come down here just for lunch, did you?"

Sam feigned surprise at the thought. "What do you mean?"

She laughed gently. "I think you know what I mean. Ever since I started making you lunch, you've been a practical hermit. Don't you like people?"

"Well, I…" Sam started, unsure how to answer and still keep in the character of the person he was replacing.

"No," a raspy voice overlaid the end of Sam's words, causing Sam to start slightly.

Susan looked at him with curiosity. "Did I ask the wrong question?"

Sam shook his head, giving Al a slight glare. "No, that's not it. I like people. It's just… things are a little difficult for me right now. I prefer to be alone."

"Then, what are you doing here?" she asked.

Al looked at Sam pointedly. "My question exactly."

Sam gave a quick glance at Al before going in for the plunge.

"Because you look like her."

"What?" both Al and Susan asked simultaneously, one with indignation, the latter with surprise.

"Sam, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Al demanded.

Sam ignored the demand and continued. "You look like her," he repeated.

Susan looked at him with sad questioning. "Like who?"

"Sam, don't do this," Al warned.

"Like my wife… ex-wife," Sam corrected without looking at Susan.

She got a sad look in her eyes. "I do?" she questioned softly, not knowing what else to say.

Sam nodded while Al exhaled in frustration.

"Sam, I sure hope you know what you're doing because I sure as hell don't." He started to pace a bit.

"What happened to her?" Susan asked, overlapping Al's words.

Sam exhaled, not looking at her. "We divorced."

"Doesn't sound like it was mutual," she commented.

"It wasn't," he replied quietly.

The silence hung between them, seeming to fill the deli despite the people who were talking in the background. Susan, in the silence, quickly put together the sandwich he had ordered and placed it in front of him, not saying a word.

Sam broke the silence. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she replied softly.

Al was looking between the two, trying to figure out what Sam was planning. So far, though, he had no idea and it frustrated him greatly.

Sam was tampering with his life, after all.

Al huffed in his frustration. "Okay, Sam. This has gone far enough. We have to talk."

Sam took a drink of water before standing. "Will you excuse me for a moment?" he asked Susan before going towards the men's room.

"Sam, what the hell are you doing?" Al yelled at him as he entered the room, not minding the other man who was already in there. "I told you to ask her out, not to woo her into falling head over heels for you!" He paused a moment, waiting for an answer. "Dammit, Sam! Don't just stand there admiring yourself! Talk to me!"

Sam had been washing his face and looking into the mirror, trying to look as if he was doing what he came in there to do. Once the extra man had left, he turned to Al with a glare.

"What are you so scared of, Al? Why are you so adamant against you and Susan getting together? It's obvious that you only told me to take her out because that's what Ziggy said I had to do. But you didn't want me to. Why? Tell me, Al! And don't give me that nonsense that it's because she looks like Beth. I can tell you love her so why don't you want to marry her?"

"I hurt her, Sam!" Al finally said. "I cheated on her! Broke her heart. Our separation was anything but amicable, even though we both agreed on it. I thought that she would finally heal me of the emotional pain I was in. I was wrong. I found out the hard way that, even though I loved her, I wasn't in love with her." He took a breath. "It was wrong for me to even date her and she paid the price for my mistake."

Sam thought about Al's words. "Was the mistake your dating her or not letting yourself accept her for who she really is?" He hesitated, studying his friend's confused look. "Susan isn't Beth, Al."

Al glared at him. "You don't think I know that?"

"You do now. But did you really know that then? Or did you just expect her to magically transform into Beth?"

For a moment, Al's face was filled with anger. The expression dissipated, though, leaving only thoughtfulness. However, he didn't say a word.

Sam exhaled, getting his answer by Al's silence. "So, you were in love with Susan but you couldn't handle the fact that, although she looks like her, she isn't Beth."

Al didn't look at him, staring at the handlink as if it had some kind of insight. "What? You got a psych degree while I wasn't looking?" he asked quietly.

Sam looked at him with gentle concern. "What do you want me to do, Al?"

Al was quiet for a moment. "Does it really matter?"

Sam nodded. "Of course, it does. This is your life we're dealing with."

Al huffed. "Tell that to Beeks and Ziggy."

"What do you want, Al?" Sam paraphrased his previous question.

Al looked at him with pause. "I don't know what I want, Sam. But I do know that I don't want Susan to die and, if we are meant to be married,

I don't want it to end the way our relationship did."

Sam nodded. "Then I know what I'm here to do." He started out the door.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Sam returned to his spot at the deli counter as Susan looked at him with concern.

"Are you okay, Mr. Calavicci?"

Sam smiled at her. "I thought I told you to call me Al."

Susan shrugged. "Sorry. Habits."

Sam ate some of his chicken salad sandwich and smiled. "This is really very good."

She smiled at him. "Thanks."

There was a moment of silence and Sam looked around the deli, noticing how quickly it had emptied of patrons.

"Lunch hour rush," Susan explained, watching his gazing around. "Like a mini-tornado. It's here and gone but leaves its mark."

Sam laughed slightly. "I suppose it does." He paused, a thoughtful look on his face. "May I ask you a question, Susan?"

She leaned on her right elbow against the counter. "Sure."

"Do you like Italian?"

Al, who had remained quietly attentive until that point, looked at Sam with a mixture of surprise and anger. "You're asking her out on a date?

After all I told you?"

Susan laughed. "Are you picking me up, Al?"

"And if I told you yes?"

She looked at him softly. "I love Italian. What did you have in mind?"

Sam returned the look. "Would you mind coming to my place for dinner?

Say at about eight o'clock?"

Al looked concerned. "Sam, are you sure you know what you're doing?"

Susan seemed to be thinking about the proposition. "Okay, Al. Eight o'clock it is. Need me to bring anything?"

"Only if you want wine with your dinner," he replied somberly.

Susan blinked at the way he said that but said nothing. Al, on the other hand, winced slightly, knowing exactly what he meant.

Sam stood up after a moment. "Thanks for the sandwich. What do I owe?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," Susan assured. "I'll put it on your tab."

Al took a breath, seeing Sam's reluctance. "Let her do it, Sam. Believe me, you don't have enough money right now anyway."

Sam sighed mentally while giving Susan a smile. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. You said eight o'clock, right?"

"Right," Sam answered with a nod.

Susan smiled at him. "Well, then, I'll see you tonight."

"Great," Sam replied genuinely before leaving the deli, Al following him.

"Sam, I really wish you would tell me what you're planning," the latter complained, walking beside the scientist.

Sam was quiet for a moment, apparently in thought. "Al, you said Ziggy says I'm here to make sure you and Susan marry. Right?"

Al nodded. "Right." He didn't sound happy with the idea.

Sam nodded. "So, discounting keeping you and Susan together, what else does Ziggy think I'm here to do?"

Al frowned as he pulled the handlink out of his pocket. He pushed a few buttons, slapping the uncooperative device. A moment later, he gave a triumphant smile.

"Ah-ha! I was right! You're here to make sure Angela gets psychiatric help.

Sam looked at him. "And?"

"And what?"

Sam glared at him knowingly. "You won't accept it, will you?"

"Accept what?" Al questioned, his voice devoid of confusion.

"That I'm here to keep you and Susan together," Sam told him firmly as they approached Comdr. Calavicci's apartment.

Al exhaled. "Sam, how many times are we going to go over this with a fine-toothed comb? Susan and I are not meant for each other."

"Maybe not as a couple. But what about as friends?"

Al frowned a bit at Sam's words. "Friends?" he questioned, not as if the concept was something unacceptable but rather as if it hadn't even occurred to him.

Sam stopped at the apartment door and looked at him. "You love Susan but you're not in love with her. Correct? Didn't Verbina once tell you that love was a part of friendship?"

Al looked at him with surprise. He couldn't understand how Sam remembered fleeting moments from other leaps but couldn't remember his own middle name. His face softened a moment later as he realized Sam had a point in his favor.

"There's still a problem with all of this, though, Sam," he told him not to negate Sam's intentions but rather to inform him of the obstacles he faced.

"And that is?" Sam asked as he entered the apartment.

"When I look at her, I see Beth, not her. What's to keep the Commander from acting based on that fact when he comes back?" Al questioned pointedly as he walked through the now closed entrance.

Sam sat in Al's lounge chair. "You'll probably have to talk to him about that." He looked at Al firmly.

Al immediately noticed his choice of words. "Me?"

"No one knows him better than you, Al. He is you. You are him. You're the only one who can convince him."

"Convince him of what?"

"That he has to let Beth go."

Al exhaled, thinking about Sam's words. "It'll tear him apart."

"What would hurt him worse? Realizing it now or when he and Susan break up?"

Al exhaled again, quiet for a moment. "I'll talk to him."

Sam saw the haunted look in his friend's eyes and immediately wanted to hold him. It was obvious that he was asking a lot from the Admiral. But he could also see that Al, on some deep down level, knew that Sam was right. Al would have to hurt himself to save his relationship with

Susan.

Sam nodded to his best friend with understanding, for which Al was grateful. The latter opened the Imaging Chamber door.

"I'll see you later, Sam," he said quietly as he stepped into the future and closed the door.

Sam nodded again, this time to himself. Then, with a deep breath, he headed for the kitchen to prepare the meal he had promised Susan.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

"Get it through your thick skull, Commander! She's not coming back! And there's nothing you can do about it! Nothing!"

Lt. Comdr. Calavicci stared at his older self with incredulity. "I don't believe you."

"Well, you're forgetting an important piece of information, then," the Admiral told him. "I'm you. And clinging to the idea of her coming back nearly destroyed me. It certainly destroyed any kind of relationship I had with any other woman." He gave him a commanding glare. "If you know what's good for you, you'll give her up. Now. Because your life isn't the only one you'll screw up if you don't."

"What do you mean?" The Commander returned the glare.

"What do you think will happen to Susan when you finally realize she's not Beth?"

"I know she isn't Beth! SIR!" the Commander replied sarcastically.

"No, you don't, Commander! And you're going to destroy her life just so you can have your ex-wife back, one way or the other!" The Admiral huffed. "You disgust me."

"I am you, remember?" the Commander replied.

"I know," the Admiral told him firmly. "And that alone should make you listen to what I'm telling you. But, then again, you like to wallow in your misery. So, go ahead and use Susan to satisfy your selfish yearnings for an unobtainable love. The sooner you get it through your head, the better. Because, one of these days, you'll hit rock bottom and maybe this time around you'll actually go through with those ideas of suicide that run through your mind." He marched out of the room, letting his words hand in the air.

The moment he was outside of the Waiting Room, Al leaned against its door, his eyes closed against his own cruelty. Telling himself off was probably the hardest thing he ever had to do in a very long time. He knew his younger self a little too well. He knew that breaking the man's heart was the only way to make him listen without lecturing him every day for months.

"Al," Verbina's voice broke into the memories of his cruel words.

He opened his eyes and looked at her, knowing by the look in her eyes that she had listened into the lecture he had just given. "What is it you want, Beeks?" he demanded, marching away from the door and towards the control console.

She followed carefully. "Are you okay?"

He huffed. "Sure, I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be okay?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"You're upset," she stated firmly.

He turned and glared at her. "Damn right, I'm upset! And I thank God that I'm no longer the arrogant self-centered bastard in that Waiting

Room!" He kept his back towards her, not wanting to look at her, to face the truth he already knew.

"You're upset with yourself," Verbina augmented her previous statement.

"You're upset because you hurt him."

"I did what I had to do," he answered simply. He started to walk towards the Control Room door.

Verbina started to follow but stopped, noticing the way Al was walking.

It was obvious that he wanted to be alone.

When he entered his office, Al immediately sat down and put his head into his hands. Moments later, he was asleep, emotionally and physically exhausted.

-----------------

"It looks wonderful," Susan commented as Sam placed the dinner in front of her.

Sam smiled at her words. "Well, I don't' know about it being wonderful but I tried my best." He sat down at the table with his own plate. He waited until Susan had taken a bite before eating some of the spaghetti himself.

"Mmmmm!" Susan commented with a mouthful. "Delicious!"

Sam's smile widened. "Thanks." He hesitated. "You were talking about your sister. Angela?"

Susan nodded slowly as she ate. "Poor Angie. She has such problems.

Sometimes, she doesn't even know where she is. Or who she is," she finished quietly.

"Why do you say that?" Sam questioned, knowing the answer but not rushing the subject. The last thing he wanted was for Susan to get suspicious or angry with him. He had to make this friendship between Al and her work.

Susan was hesitant to answer. She wasn't sure she could trust him with the truth. What if it drove him away from her? What if she frightened him? What if he suggested the unthinkable - that she should lock her sister away in a looney bin?

She took a breath before answering. "Angie… has some problems. She… she has a few other people inside her."

Sam nodded. "She had Multi-Personality Disorder," he stated as if it were a conclusion.

She looked at him with a glare. "What? Are you some kind of psychiatrist?"

Sam shook his head, leaning back to give her room. "No. I just want to help in any way that I can."

"By locking her up and throwing away the key, right?" Susan said angrily. "Well, forget it!" She stood up and marched to retrieve her purse.

Sam followed quickly. "Susan! Please, listen." He touched her shoulder just enough to make her turn around and glare at him. He looked into her eyes. "I don't want to lock your sister away. I couldn't."

"Why not? Everyone else could," she stated bitterly.

"I'm not everyone else," Sam told her, taking her shoulders gently.

She looked at him with challenge. "Then who are you?"

Sam thought of how to answer for a moment. Part of him wanted to tell her the truth that he was Sam Beckett, a quantum physicist from the future who was there to save her and Angela's lives. Another part wanted to tell another truth. He chose the second truth, a truth that applied to his host and best friend.

"I am a man whose sister died in a mental hospital," he told her somberly.

Susan gasped slightly at his answer. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

Sam pierced his lips. "Yeah. Me too." He took a deep breath and looked at her. "Susan, I know you care for your sister. I also know she needs help. Multi-Personality Disorder is a very disabling disease…"

"Is that why your sister was in a mental hospital? Because she had MPD?" she questioned nervously.

Sam shook his head slowly and sadly. "She had Down Syndrome."

"And so they locked her up! That's horrible!" Susan exclaimed.

Sam didn't reply to her statement, instead trying to think of how to convince her of the truth. He took a breath, knowing what to say.

"Susan," he told her, gently taking her hand. "I don't want your sister to be institutionalized but, unless she gets help soon, that is exactly what is going to happen whether we want it or not."

She frowned at him strongly. "Angie is doing just fine. She doesn't need help."

"That isn't what you indicated a few minutes ago," Sam pointed out gently. He touched her shoulders carefully. "You can give Angie the help she needs without putting her in a mental hospital."

Susan was silent at his words, not looking at him. Sam gently led her back to the dinner table and helped her to sit down.

"Eat up," he told her softly. "Your dinner is getting cold." He slowly sat in his own place and watched as she nibbled a little of the pasta.

"How?" she asked after a long moment.

Sam looked at her with questioning in his eyes.

Susan looked at him. "How can I help Angie without putting her in a hospital?"

"Out-patient therapy," Sam answered. "And by just being there for her. A good psychiatrist can not only find out why she has MPD but can also help her to become whole again."

She shook her head. "She's never go for it."

"You've got to at least try. For her sake and yours." He paused, an idea coming to his mind. "I'll even help you convince her that it's the right thing to do."

"But she doesn't even know you. Why would she listen to you?"

"It's worth a shot, isn't it?" Sam asked gently. "To give her an objective opinion to help weigh her possibilities?"

Susan sighed, thinking about his words. "I suppose."

"Good," Sam said with a gentle smile. "We can talk to her tomorrow then. Or whenever you feel is right."

Susan nodded. "Tomorrow's fine." She stood up again. "I'm sorry but I better go. This dinner… it's just not working out. Perhaps later."

Sam stood with her. "I understand," he said gently. "Let me show you out, at least."

She nodded slowly and once again went to retrieve her purse. Sam then guided her to the door and opened it for her.

She looked at him. "It was thoughtful of you, though." She hesitated. "I don't understand why you're so interested in Angie."

"What if I told you it was my way of saving her soul?"

She thought about those words. "Are you really sure that she would be put in a mental hospital eventually?"

Sam nodded slowly. "I just have this feeling that she would be."

There was stillness between them before Susan suddenly kissed Sam on the cheek. "Thanks, Al. For caring."

Sam smiled at her. "Good night, Susan. Sweet dreams. I'll see you tomorrow."

She nodded slowly before leaving the apartment, Sam closing the door behind her.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"No."

"Angie, please listen to us," Susan pleaded gently. "You need help."

Angela Cotton frowned at her sister. "And you want me to just let myself get locked up by this psychiatrist? I won't be put in a hospital, Suz. I won't!" She started to pace the living room.

Sam took a breath before walking slowly to Angela, concern on his face.

"Just the opposite, Angela. We want you to see Dr. Harmon so that you won't be put in a hospital. You have a lot of sides to you, Angela, and they need to be united. If you remain separated, it could hurt you and those you love."

She glared at him. "What would you know? You don't even know me."

"He doesn't have to know you," Susan told her, walking over to her and putting a hand on her shoulder. "He's right regardless." She looked at her with sad, concerned, and frightened eyes. "I'm scared, Angie. Sometimes, I don't know whom I'm talking to. I don't know if it's you or Belinda or Christa or Michael. And that scares the hell out of me. I want you to be one person - one beautiful, wonderful person. Please,

Angie, at least try. Please."

The room was silent as Angela considered her sister's plea. She seemed uncertain about the idea, almost frightened. After a minute, she turned to Susan with frightened eyes.

"What if they don't want to?" she asked.

"They're a part of you," Sam answered the question. "If you decide to go with it, they will too."

She gave him another frown. "Like I said, you don't know me. Or the others." She sighed thoughtfully. "Okay, I'll try it."

Both Susan and Sam smiled.

"But," Angela continued, "If I don't like it, I'm dumping the idea like a hot potato. Got it?"

Sam nodded while Susan hugged her lovingly. "Thank you, Angie. I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too, Suz," Angela returned the hug. She looked at Sam. "Just one question. Why are you so concerned about me?"

"I don't want to see anyone in a mental hospital, especially the sister of a new friend," Sam answered, Al standing behind him with a gentle smile.

"Well, looks like you did it, Sam," Al told him. "Angela gets psychiatric help and, therefore, doesn't kill her sister." He punched a few buttons on the handlink. "She's working with her sister at the same delicatessen and both of them are very happy. They're both married and have children."

Sam smiled at him gently while slowly walking from Susan and Angela, allowing the sisters to talk in private.

"What about you?" he whispered to Al.

"Oh, I sort of become Angela's cheerleading squad," Al told him without looking at the handlink. "Susan and I make sure that Angela doesn't give up on herself." His face became somber. "Susan and I still have a serious relationship and an even more serious break up." He sighed. "Apparently, my younger self didn't listen and pursued her anyway." He sighed again, looking at Susan. "Can't say that I blame him, though. She just looks too damn much like her." He took a deep breath. "I guess some things just can't be fixed."

Sam looked at his friend with sad eyes. "I'm sorry, Al."

Al raised an eyebrow towards him. "Hey, it's not your fault I was a stubborn son-of-a-bitch when I came back from Vietnam." He gave him a smile. "At least we kept Susan from being killed and Angela from committing suicide. Seems to be you did a damn good job. Time to leap,

Sam."

As he spoke, Susan approached Sam with a smile.

"We're going to go see Dr. Harmon tomorrow morning," she told him. "I think I've got Angie convinced that it actually will help her. Will help both of us."

Sam smiled at her. "I think it will." He glanced briefly at Al as an idea came to his mind. "Susan, I don't think we should see each other."

Al raised his head and looked at Sam with surprise while Susan looked at the scientist with confusion.

"But we just met," she pointed out.

Sam exhaled. "I know. But… I'm sorry, Susan, but you look too much like her and I'm afraid that I might try to mold you into her."

Al closed his eyes gently, realizing what Sam was doing.

Susan blinked at him for a moment. "So that's it? You just walk out of my life after doing your good deed for the day?"

Sam brushed her cheek. "Trust me, Susan. It's for the best. You don't want to be around me right now. But maybe some day, we'll look each other up. After I've gotten over her."

Susan just stared at him for a moment, her eyes still showing confusion.

"What if I don't want to let you go? I mean, you just can't gain someone's heart and then dump them."

Sam looked into her eyes. "I'm sorry, Susan, but we just are not meant to be."

She shook her head and laughed slightly. "I don't understand you, Al

Calavicci."

Sam smiled at her. "Don't try to." He hesitated a moment. "How much do I owe you? I figure I should finally pay for my tab." He reached for the wallet in his back pocket.

"Keep your money. It'll be a good excuse for me to find you later," she told him. "So, I guess this means I won't be serving you for a while."

Sam shook his head. "I don't think so."

The room was silent. Sam and Susan looked at each other while Angela watched from a distance. Al stood to the side and watched as well, his eyes focused on Susan.

"So, I suppose this is it," Susan finally said.

Sam nodded silently.

Susan leaned in and kissed him gently on the cheek. "I don't know why you helped us but thanks." She took a step back. "I guess you were right about one thing. Angie and I needed an objective opinion."

Sam took a breath and nodded to her and her sister. "Good-bye, Susan.

Angela." He then turned around and left the apartment.

Angela walked over to her sister and touched her shoulder.

"What was that about, honey?"

Susan sighed slightly, knowing the personality by the words used.

"Nothing, Belinda," Susan answered. "Just an angel in the disguise of a

Naval officer." She turned and smiled at her. "I think you all are going to be fine, Belinda. You are all going to be one person again."

"Belinda" smiled gently at her.

----------------

Sam had leaped out hours before and now Al sat in his living room, lounging with a cup of coffee in his hands. He and Susan hadn't seen each other since Sam had broken the relationship before it started. But that didn't mean that the two remained separated.

Al waited, sipping on the coffee as his personal computer made the connection. Thank gawd for the Internet, he thought as he waited.

He and Susan had finally reunited - in a chatroom. Al wasn't that much into the Internet at the time. He had just been browsing and found an interesting room where he thought he could pick up a beautiful woman. He had no idea that Susan Chambers-Brown would be a regular chatter in the room. It wasn't exactly the way he had expected to meet Susan years later but he was glad it had been in a chatroom rather than face-to-face. He knew that, even after so many years, he still hadn't completely gotten over Beth's leaving him; it had only become bearable.

The connection finally went through with a beep that brought Al out of his reverie. He sat up and put his coffee down on a nearby table.

"Susan," he said with affection, his voice easily heard by her hundreds of miles away.

"Al Calavicci, you still owe me for eight turkey sandwiches and four bags of chips," she replied with equal affection, a taunt that was now very familiar to Al.

The two remained embroiled in conversation for several hours to come, close friends sharing their thoughts, worries, and dreams, helping each other to one day look at each other face-to-face after so many years of separation.


End file.
